


Fallen Empires

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 127,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to This Isn't Everything You Are. Six months after their return from Wonderland, Emma and Killian are still adjusting to their life together. But will something - or someone - conspire to destroy it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I wanted to play a little bit more with this. Enjoy!

_Shouldn't they have better aim than this?_ , Jefferson though idly as he ran. Maybe it had something to do with being frozen for twenty eight years or something. Then he berated himself. He didn't have time for this nonsense. He had what he came for; it was time to get back to Grace.

Jefferson ducked as another arrow whizzed past his head. He had to be _mad_ for agreeing to this job. But when Rumplestiltskin asked you for a favor, well...even in Storybrooke, one was usually loathe to say no. His prize bounced awkwardly against his leg as he ran; what Rumplestiltskin wanted it for was well above his pay grade. All Jefferson was worried about was making it out of this infernal kingdom alive and back to Grace.

The sound of hoof beats got closer; Jefferson cursed under his breath. He scanned the treeline ahead, looking for the door. There it was, just across the small stream, just as he left it. Jefferson exhaled in relief; he was nearly there.

“You there,” a knight called from his mount. “Stop, in the name of the king!”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. That was one thing he was grateful for in Storybrooke. The vestiges of royalty were muted, if not gone entirely. Besides, this particular king wasn't his anyway. But he didn't dare look back. His shoes soaked through the instant he stepped into the stream, but it was shallow, barely going halfway up his shins. More arrows flew past, a couple lodging themselves in the magical gateway. Jefferson stepped onto the bank and finally chanced a glance back.

Four knights huddled on the opposite bank. The stream was the border of their kingdom; Jefferson was clear. The horses shuddered and whined, clearly reluctant to cross the stream. It was due to the magical nature of the door, Jefferson knew. Magic frightened even the steadiest of beasts. All four knights struggled with their mounts, but they all refused to budge. Jefferson placed his hand on the knob and turned it. Better to get out of here before they decided to leave the horses and come after him on foot. The tallest of them was doing exactly that as Jefferson stepped through the doorway, relief flooding him as the door closed behind him. He never saw the black swirling abyss that opened where the door had once been, taking the tall knight with it.

 

Jefferson stood in the Room of Portals, gradually trying to slow his breathing and heart rate. That had been close. He looked down at his clothes; there was a couple of holes in his coat that hadn't been there before, as well as a rather large gash from where one of the guards had tried to slash him. Damn, that was his favorite coat too. Whatever Rumplestiltskin wanted his booty for, it had better be worth it.

Jefferson was about to head back to Storybrooke when something caught his eye. The doors. Where were the doors? They were here when he'd entered the hat, hours before he was sure of it. But now...yes, every door to every realm he'd visited for Rumplestiltskin in the past few weeks was gone. Jefferson turned around. The door to the Enchanted Forest was gone too. What the hell? There was no magic powerful enough to do that; at least none that Jefferson knew. His first thought was Rumplestiltskin, but that made even less sense. Rumplestiltskin was the person who asked him to go to those places in the first place, why would he close Jefferson's way back? Unless Rumplestiltskin didn't want him to return. That imp was even crazier than Jefferson was; at least Jefferson acknowledged his particular brand of crazy.

A feeling of dread filled Jefferson. If there was no way to reverse this, then they could never return to the Enchanted Forest. Rumplestiltskin had _promised_ that he'd convince Prince Charming and Snow White to return. Lies, everything that imp said was _lies_. Anger filling his brain, Jefferson climbed through the portal to Storybrooke. He emerged in Rumplestiltskin's pawn shop, the imp hovering close to the portal. As soon as Jefferson was clear the portal closed in on itself and the hat stopped spinning.

“You appear quite the worse for wear, Jefferson,” Rumplestiltskin drawled. “I hope this trip wasn't too taxing for you.”

Jefferson picked up his hat and turned on the imp, eyes flashing. “Just what the hell is going on, Rumplestiltskin? _What have you done?”_

Rumplestiltskin leaned more heavily on his cane. “I have done nothing, Hatter. Your Grace is safe and sound just as I promised. Now give me what you owe me, or she might not remain so.”

Jefferson shook his head. “That's _not_ what I mean. You did something to it; I know you did,” he countered, shaking the hat.

Rumplestiltskin's brow furrowed. “I'm beginning to see why they call you the Mad Hatter, Jefferson. Whatever are you raving about?”

“My hat, the doors. They're _gone_.”

The imp's eyes lit up – only for a second. If Jefferson did not know the gleam of madness as well as he did, he would have missed it entirely. But it was definitely there. “Do tell, Jefferson.”

“They're gone. All of them. Well, the ones to the realms I've been to for you.”

“And the door to our land?”

“That one too.”

“Interesting.”

Jefferson scoffed. “ _Interesting?!_ That's all you have to say? Our way back to our world disappears and you think it's interesting? You promised me, Rumplestiltskin. My help in return for our return home. _You lied to me.”_

“There is more than one way back to our world, Jefferson. I honor my deals. Just as long as yours are honored in return,” he said smoothly, holding out his hand. “My bounty, if you please.”

Jefferson hesitated. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Rumplestiltskin wanted this object – and all the others, for that matter – for, it wasn't anything good. Rumplestiltskin did not deal in positive outcomes. But what choice did he have? If he didn't cooperate, Grace would be in danger. That was something Jefferson couldn't allow. Reluctantly, Jefferson unbuckled the sword and handed it over to the imp.

“What do you want it for?” Jefferson asked, knowing he was treading on thin ice.

“That is none of your concern.”

Jefferson held up a hand. “Forgive a man for being curious,” he said quickly, to cover his anxiety.

“Just so long as your curiosity does not go beyond this room,” Rumplestiltskin warned. “I'd hate for some mishap to befall your lovely Grace.”

“You son of a bitch,” Jefferson whispered, using one of this realm's more colorful turns of phrase. “Are we done?” he said, louder.

“I do believe this concludes our business, Jefferson. Good night.”

The imp disappeared into the back of his stop, the newly acquired sword tucked under his arm. Disgusted with himself but thankful that his part in this drama was over, Jefferson put his hat back in its case and left the shop. Looking left and right and seeing no one, the Mad Hatter headed home. He never noticed the handful of stars blink out in the inky black sky.


	2. 1

The deck of the _Jolly Roger_ rang with the sound of swordplay, something not seen there in decades. No boarding party, no Lost Boys, no insufferable Peter Pan. This day the captain of the ship was attempting to teach his wayward princess how to properly wield her sword. Trying and failing as far as Emma was concerned.

“Damn it!” she cried, as Killian had his cutlass hovering at her throat, her own weapon skittering across the deck. Again.

Killian grinned at her. He was loving this far too much. “You almost had me that time, lass.”

Emma threw him a dirty look. “Don't patronize me, Killian.”

Killian lowered his sword, his expression turning serious. “I would do no such thing, love. I am being entirely honest. With a bit more practice...”

“Save it,” Emma cut him off, stalking off to get her sword. Well, David's sword. She still didn't have one of her own, which annoyed her. And it annoyed her, that she was annoyed.

“Emma, love, what is bothering you? It can't just be being bested by the three hundred year old pirate at swordplay.”

“You're imagining things, Killian. I'm fine,” she countered, taking position across from him once more.

But this time Killian refused to oblige her. He kept his sword at his side. “No, Emma. You've been like this for a week now. Something is going on.”

It was times like this it annoyed her how well he could read her. And this time the reason for her bad mood was so _stupid_ , that she was extra twitchy about it. Shouldn't things like this make her _happy_? Especially now. She finally had everything she'd ever wanted and just when she should be enjoying it the most, she was lashing out at the very people closest to her.

“It's nothing, stupid really,” she said weakly. “Can we just get back to the lesson?”

“It's not nothing,” Killian said evenly. “Tell me, please?”

Emma sighed, lowering her sword in defeat. “You know what today is?”

“Aye, it's Thursday.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Killian...”

“Aye, it's your name day. Henry's been twittering on about it for weeks. And Snow. Why does it cause you such distress, darling?”

“I don't know, that's the point! It will be the first birthday where I'm not...alone. Well, last year, Henry showed up after I made a stupid wish, but that doesn't count.”

“You don't like people making a fuss over you.” It wasn't a question.

“It's just so...new, I guess? I mean for twenty eight years, I was alone. Then Henry shows up out of the blue and drags me me here. Now I have a son, parents and...you. I thought this feeling would go away eventually, but it hasn't. And Gold's still out there, doing God only knows what...and I guess with my birthday, it's all come to a head.” She moved to the rail, leaning against it. “I'm sorry, this must make absolutely no sense to you.”

Killian crossed the deck and stood in front of her. “Never apologize for opening up to me, love. We're a team, remember?”

“Damn good one too,” she replied, smiling.

“There's a good lass,” Killian said, returning her smile. “Now what feeling?”

“It's stupid.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, bidding her to continue. She sighed, knowing he wouldn't stop until she told him. “I'm supposed to be the Savior, right? My parents, Henry, even you look at me like I'm the most wonderful person and I'm...not. I'm just me, and I don't feel very special or Savior-y or anything. It's like I'm a huge fraud and one day all of you will see that and leave.” She paused. And thing of it is, I _know_ it's stupid. After everything we've been through, I _know_ that none of you are going anywhere. Not on purpose. But twenty eight years of loneliness is hard to shake.”

“Believe it or not, love, I understand you perfectly.”

Emma stared at him for a long second, then realized how incredibly stupid that had sounded to Killian Jones of all people. Of course he'd understand. He'd only spent three hundred years alone, desperately trying to avenge his last love.

“Sometimes I forget how old you are,” Emma said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“With you, I sometimes forget too.”

Emma brought her hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently. “I love you, Killian. And you're practically a saint for putting up with me. A lesser man would have bailed a long time ago.”

“Well, then it's a good thing I'm not one of those.” He turned his head, kissing her palm. “I love you, Emma.”

Emma looked down at her watch, her personal pity party over. How did he always know how to make her feel better? “We've still got a few hours; can we fight some more?”

Killian grinned. “Think you can best me this time, love?”

“Hey, I'm the daughter of Prince Charming. I got this.”

Together, they moved to the center of the deck, facing each other once more. Emma raised her sword and attacked, trying to catch Killian off guard. He raised his sword at the last second, deflecting her blow easily.

“You'll have to do better than that,” he taunted.

Emma laughed, her first genuine laugh in a week. This was going to be fun.

A couple of hours later, Emma and Killian made their way back to the apartment. Snow's surprise party (that she didn't know Emma already knew about) was in an hour and both of them needed a shower and a change of clothes. Emma was digging through her closet for a suitable dress when she heard Killian yelp from the bathroom.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping into the steam filled room.

“Looks like that last lunge was more accurate then I thought,” Killian said through gritted teeth. Sure enough, there was a gash just underneath his ribcage. A trickle of blood ran down his stomach, staining the water in the tub.

“It's a scratch, you big baby,” Emma teased.

“It bloody well stings!”

“That's because you're standing underneath the hot water,” Emma pointed out. Then she took pity on him. “Come here.” Killian stepped out of the tub and Emma laid her hand on his wet skin. The now familiar tingling sensation flowed across her palm; a second later the scratch was completely healed, like it has never been there. “Better now?” she asked.

“Much.”

“Does this mean I actually bested you?”

“It most certainly does not!”

“Oh, but I think it does.” She grinned. “The great Captain Hook, bested by a girl. We'll have to put that in the _Mirror_.” Emma turned to leave, when she felt Killian's hand wrap around her wrist.

“Care to join me, love?” he said, his voice dropping to that octave that made her shiver.

“We can't,” she pointed out. “The party.”

“They can't have the party without the guest of honor; they can wait.”

“I'm not supposed to know about this party, remember? If we're late, they'll come looking for us. Do you really want my parents to catch us again?”

Emma saw Killian shudder at the memory. It had been only a few days after they'd returned from Wonderland; days that Emma and Killian had spent mostly in bed. David and Mary Margaret had invited themselves over without calling and had gotten an eye full. Emma thought David was going to run Killian through with his sword, even though logically he _knew_ that she and Killian had become lovers before Wonderland. It was another week before Emma could look her mother in the eye. It was not an experience Emma wanted to repeat. So as much as she would love nothing better than to shower with her wet naked pirate, it would have to wait. They had somewhere to be.

“Next time, love,” Killian said.

“Definitely.”

As they approached Granny's a little while later, Killian whispered in her ear. “Now remember, love. _Act_ surprised. Your mum would have my head if she found out I told you.”

“Captain Hook, afraid of my mother?” It would be even more hilarious if she hadn't seen the fearless, badass Snow White in action. But she had, so what Killian said was entirely true. “Lucky you have me to protect you.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Well spotted.” She grinned. “I'm sure an exception could be made. I _did_ put you though extreme duress to get it out of you,” she commented, her fingers brushing underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Keep that up, love, and I will haul you right back home.”

As they stepped through the gate to Granny's, Emma leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Is that a promise?” before pushing the door to the diner open and entering.

“Minx,” she heard Killian mutter under his breath as he followed her.

It was dark inside the diner and appeared to be empty. She knew it wasn't, of course, but played along with the ruse. Mary Margaret really would be upset if she found out her surprise had been spoiled. “I wonder where everybody is?” she said to no one in particular.

“SURPRISE!”

Even though she knew this was exactly what was supposed to happen, Emma still jumped. The lights had come on at the same time and seeing what appeared to be all of Storybrooke crammed into Granny's really was a surprise. She had expected her parents, Henry, the dwarves, Ruby, Granny, Archie, even Regina. But it was _everyone_. They all looked so genuinely happy to celebrate _her_ , she almost couldn't handle it. There was still a small part of her that wanted to bolt, but she fought it. Killian, a solid comforting presence at her side, helped.

“Happy birthday, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, happily. She pulled Emma into a tight hug; Emma could feel a few tears fall onto her bare shoulder. Emma blinked back her own tears. All her life she'd wanted to be hugged by her mother on her birthday and now she was. David suddenly was there too, murmuring his own birthday wishes.

“Thank you,” Emma said quietly. “Thank you both so much.”

Mary Margaret pulled back reluctantly. “It might be a bit over the top, but we wanted to make up for all the birthdays we missed,” she sniffed.

Emma looked at the colorful balloons, streamers, the huge pile of presents. It _was_ over the top, but she found that she didn't care. “It's perfect,” Emma replied. “Really.”

“Happy birthday, Mom!” Henry cried, shouldering his way through the adults.

“Thanks, kid.” Emma stooped to hug him too. Then everything was a logjam of hugs and birthday wishes and greetings. Emma lost Killian somewhere in the melee. At one point she caught his eye as he sat quietly at the counter next to the huge pile of birthday presents. She motioned for him to join her, but he shook his head. She was about to go over there and drag him back with her, when David beat her to it. Quickly, the two of them were deep in conversation about God only knows what.

Emma disengaged herself from all the well wishers long enough to get a plate. Everything smelled great; Granny had made all of Emma's favorite things. She was somewhat surprised when she was joined at the table by Regina.

“Happy birthday, Miss Swan.”

“Thank you, Regina.”

The former Evil Queen looked uncomfortable. She was doing much better, but many of the townspeople were still wary of her. Emma couldn't blame them, really. Only one thing could help and that was time.

“Henry invited me, I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not, Regina,” Emma said, honestly. “You're always welcome, you know that.”

“Not everyone would agree with you.”

“Well, it's my party, right?” she said, trying to play it down. “Look, Regina. I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm gonna say it anyway. It's gonna take time for most of this town to accept that you've changed. You can't expect them to just forgive you right away. But it'll be worth it in the end.”

“Well, we'll see about that,” Regina countered. She started to walk away, when Emma stopped her.

“Listen, Regina, we were gonna take Henry sailing this weekend. But would you like to spend some time with him? I know he's been dying to show you Jolly.”

Regina smiled gratefully. “I would love that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Emma returned to her table with her plate. Mary Margaret looked at her, eyebrow raised in question. “She just wanted to wish me a happy birthday. Is that a crime now?”

“No, it's not.” Mary Margaret's shoulders slumped. “It's just hard, Emma. I want to believe in her, I do. But it's hard when she continues to glare at me like she wants me dead.”

“She's grieving still,” Emma pointed out. “Killian did kill Cora.”

“Cora was going to kill both of you!”

“I know, I know. And deep down Regina knows that too. We just need to give her the space to work through it.”

“I hope you're right,” Mary Margaret said skeptically.

On that happy note, Emma dug into her dinner. Ruby invited herself into the booth with her; they made small talk for a while. Emma was just finishing up when Henry appeared at her shoulder.

“Presents or cake?” he asked, practically bouncing from one foot to the other.

“Seriously, kid, you'd think this was _your_ birthday or something.”

“Come on, Mom!”

“OK, how about presents _and_ cake? I'll blow out the candles or whatever, then open presents while everyone eats. How's that?”

“Great!” The boy was off like a shot, calling to Granny to bring out the cake. Emma's eyes widened as the cake was brought out. No small cupcake for her this time; no, this cake was _huge_. It was in the shape of a swan; Emma had no idea how Granny had even got it to look like that. Did they teach advanced cake making in the Enchanted Forest?

“Better blow out those candles, love,” Killian said, appearing at her side like a ghost. “All that fire might burn the place down.”

Emma elbowed him. “Shut up. Just wait until _your_ birthday.”

Emma saw Killian frown slightly; she was about to ask him about it but Henry was yanking on her arm. “Don't forget to make a wish!”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she wished for something very different than she had the year before. Wish made, she blew out the twenty nine candles. The diner erupted in cheers and applause; Emma grinned shyly at all the attention. Mary Margaret shooed everyone away, while she began cutting the cake. David helped her hand out plates piled high with birthday cake. Emma sat next to Killian at the counter, examining the pile of presents for the first time.

“That's an obscene number of presents,” Emma observed.

“You deserve every single one,” Killian assured her.

“Are you gonna open them or what?” Henry asked.

“Sure, kid.” Emma grabbed one of the smaller boxes and ripped the paper. It went on like that for a while, Emma ripping open presents with Henry scurrying around collecting the discarded paper. She got a beautiful hand knitted sweater from Granny, some lingerie from Ruby (that she quickly hid from Henry, but Killian was _very_ interested in), a painting of what appeared to be she and Killian on the beanstalk (at least that's what Henry told her it was) and a new swan necklace from Mary Margaret and David. There were other things too; most were thoughtful but there were a few random things too. When she got to the bottom of the pile, Emma cocked an eyebrow at the long thin package. It was the last present and Emma had no idea what it was.

“Go on, love,” Killian said. Emma caught the barest hint of anxiety in his voice. So this was from him then. Intrigued, Emma lifted the package; it was surprisingly heavy. She ripped off the paper eagerly and lifted the lid to the box. Inside sat a slightly smaller exact replica of David's sword. It had her name inset on the hilt. Carefully, she lifted it out of the box and tested it weight and balance in her hand. The one problem with David's sword was that it was slightly too heavy for her; it kept throwing her off. But this was perfect for her.

She laid the sword back down, then turned to Killian. “How?”

“There were a couple of unused swords down in the hold of the _Roger_. I knew you wanted a sword of your own, so your father and I had those melted down and this one forged for you.”

If you had told her a year ago that she'd get a freaking sword for her birthday and it would be the greatest gift she'd ever gotten, she'd have had you committed. As it was, she was deeply touched by Killian's thoughtfulness. Now if the occasion arose, they could fight side by side, like her parents did. And Emma would have it no other way. “Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. When the kiss lingered a beat too long, there were cat calls (started by Leroy to no one's surprise). Blushing, Emma pulled away.

David saved her. “This goes with it,” he said, handing her a gorgeous scabbard. Emma lifted the sword once more and slid it into its scabbard. “Thank you, David,” she murmured, hugging him.

“Does this mean I can have mine back?” he laughed.

“Sure.”

“I'm so proud of you, Emma.”

Emma was saved from replying when Henry yawned. “I think it's past someone's bedtime,” she observed.

It _was_ late. And Henry had school the next day. “You go,” Mary Margaret said, “We'll clean up.”

“OK, thanks again, you guys. It was a wonderful party.”

More hugs, a few gathered presents (there were too many to take them all home at once) and she, Killian and Henry headed back to the apartment. As Emma tucked him in, she said, “Regina's going to pick you up from school tomorrow, OK?”

“What about sailing?”

“Well, kid, I know that we were going to, but I think Regina misses you. She's still sad about her mother. Is that alright? The ocean will still be there next weekend.”

“Yeah, I can show her Jolly! She still hasn't seen me ride!”

“See, everybody wins. I'll pack your bag for you tonight. Now get some sleep.”

That task completed, Emma was about to turn off the light when Henry called out. “Yeah?”

“Was it a good birthday?” he asked.

She smiled. “Best birthday ever, kid.”

 

Killian hauled the last of the supplies they would need for their weekend down to the hold. It wasn't much, just a few non-perishables, a couple of changes of clothes – that if Killian had his way they wouldn't even need – and Emma's new sword. He was extremely pleased how much she seemed to love her gift; it had been well worth overcoming David's initial misgivings about it. Killian suspected that this was more due to the pirate thing than anything else. While David and Snow were remarkably supportive of their relationship, Killian still got the feeling that his less than orthodox ways didn't quite sit well with them. But it was too late now.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” he heard Emma call.

He poked his head topside. “Of course, love. You know you don't have to ask.”

She grinned at him. “I know. I just like to. You get the most adorable look on your face.”

Killian mock scowled as he stepped on the deck. “Oi! You take that back! Captain Hook is _not_ adorable.”

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“Perhaps you'd like a demonstration?” he purred.

He grinned when Emma shivered. “Nah, maybe later.” Then she stalked off to their cabin to drop her bag. Killian sighed. That woman would be the death of him someday, he was sure of it. What over three hundred years of living and vengeance couldn't do, Emma would. And she'd do it with a smirk on her lips.

Since Henry was staying behind with Regina, they had no reason to linger. In the brief months since coming to Storybrooke, he'd come to love the boy as his own, but Killian would be lying if he said that he wasn't looking forward to having Emma all to himself. To that end, he cast off from the dock and ran up to the helm. They were fortunate; a stiff breeze from the northwest caught the sails, sending them quickly out into the bay. Killian spun the wheel to make them one with the current. They weren't going far, just down the coast a bit. Emma had mentioned vaguely something about Boston or New York as their ports of call, but that was when Henry had been accompanying them. Since it was just the two of them, Killian wasn't going to be overly zealous about them even leaving the ship. Emma, his ship and the open sea were all he needed at this particular moment.

Emma emerged a few minutes later, her blonde tresses flowing in the wind, leather pants, boots, blue vest, one of his shirts and her new sword strapped to her hip. She was a vision. Killian's eyes widened as he drank her in; desire pooled in his stomach. “You look like a pirate, love,” he murmured.

“Well, that's good, because I feel ridiculous.”

“Nonsense, love. You're _gorgeous_.” To emphasize his point, he closed the space between them and kissed her soundly, wrapping her in his arms. She melted into his kiss, her arms going around his neck of their own accord. The hilt of her sword jabbed him in the ribs, but he barely felt it. Nothing could rival the feel of her in his arms at that moment.

He pulled back, brushing an errant lock out of her face. “All this for me, darling?”

“Well, I _am_ dating a pirate. Figured I should look the part. You don't like it?” she asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“What part of 'you're gorgeous' was unclear?”

“You'd be surprised.”

“Any man who saw you right now would agree with me, love. Then I'd have to fend them off with my sword.”

“I think I can do my own fending, thanks. Besides, you're the only one I want seeing me like this.”

“Good to know,” he said, lowering his head to her neck and peppering it with kisses.

“So where are we off to, Captain?”

Going? They were going somewhere? Killian's focus had shrunk solely to the woman before him. And there was only one place he wanted to take her. “Don't care,” he murmured against her skin, “as long as it involves our quarters.”

Emma pushed him away; Killian immediately groaned at the loss. “A-ah,” she tisked. “I want to try out my new sword first.”

“Emma...”

“You know as well as I do, if we go below now, we won't come back. And I want my chance at besting you first.” She grinned at him, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Besides, if you're good, I promise to make it up to you.”

“You're a bloody tease, love.”

“But you love it,” she countered. With that, Emma turned and climbed down to the main deck. Killian growled and grabbed his own sword from its perch. Fine, if that was the game she wanted to play, so be it.

By the time he faced her, Emma already had her sword drawn and the scabbard tossed aside. Killian wasted no time, attacking almost instantly. Emma was surprised, but recovered quickly. Back and forth they went across the deck, slashing, hacking, spinning. Killian would thrust and Emma would parry. She'd swing and he'd side step. It was an intricate dance that neither was willing to relinquish control of. Once, the force of Killian's blow caused sparks to rain down on them. He gave her no quarter and she asked for none. Through it, Killian was impressed. She'd learned a lot in a relatively short amount of time, complimenting her natural talent.

“You've been holding out on me, love,” he said as she drove him back once more.

“Either that, or you've lost your touch,” she shot back.

“No bloody likely,” he spat, kicking her legs out from under her. She was a glorious vision, fighting like that, dressed as she was, but it was time to put an end to this. “Now this is _much_ better,” he said, circling her sword with his hook, holding it in place and leaning down between her open legs.

“I seem to remember this one,” Emma commented, breathing heavily. Killian grinned. One of their earliest training sessions had ended precisely this way; he was pleased she remembered.

“It was a nice try, love, but...” He never got to finish, because Emma closed her legs around him and flipped him over so that _he_ was the one flat on his back. Emma scrambled up, kicking away his sword and holding her own to his throat. A triumphant grin lit up her face.

“Wanna rephrase that, Captain?”

It had been a long time since anyone had bested him at swordplay. A _long_ time. He knew he should be angry, annoyed, at the very least chagrined, but he wasn't. Because it was _Emma_ who'd bested him, a vision dressed as a pirate, her stormy eyes lit up, her chest heaving as she stared down at him. The latent desire that simmered all though their dance surged in him. He needed her. Now.

Killian scrambled to his feet, knocking her sword away as he did. It landed a few feet away from his own, but he barely noticed. Instead, he picked Emma up, threw her over his shoulder and marched them to the captain's quarters. Emma gave a yelp of protest that melted into a laugh when she realized where they were going. There was a knowing smirk on her lips when he finally sat her down after slamming the door to the cabin shut. Minx had known what she was doing all along, he mused. Well, she would pay for that.

He advanced on her, backing her into the solid door at her back. She stared up at him through her lashes, completely unafraid, the desire evident. The grin he graced her with was wolfish and hungry. “That wasn't a very smart plan, darling,” he growled.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she retorted, but the grin tugging at her lips gave her away.

“Come now, Emma. There's no need for subterfuge. Just tell me what you want and I promise you'll get it.”

“I'm already getting what I want.”

“And what's that?”

“You. Hanging by a thread. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I'd be careful what you wish for, love. You may not like what you've unleashed.”

“Do your worst, Captain.”

With that, the last vestiges of Killian's control snapped. He crushed his lips to hers. Emma moaned into the kiss, but Killian pulled back before she could deepen it. His lips moved along her jaw and down her throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. Her hands crept up his back, but he stepped away from her and pushed her arms back to her sides.

“Not so fast, love,” he chided. “This is _my_ ship and here I give the orders. Are we clear?”

Emma's eyes sparked with mischief and understanding, but to her credit she kept her face neutral. And Killian fell in love with her just a little bit more. It was a rare woman who would be willing to play this game with him. “Aye, Captain. Crystal.”

“Good. Rule number one: no touching unless I say so.”

Emma gulped, but nodded. Killian grinned. It would be torture for him as well, but worth it. He was determined to make her as crazy as she made him. Killian reached out and slid his hook between the laces in the front of her leather pants, yanking her toward him. He brought his lips to hers in a desperate, needy kiss. His good hand went to her waist and caressed her backside, pressing her hips toward him where his desire for her was straining against the confines of his own pants. Emma hissed at the contact, her hands clenching at her sides. Killian broke the kiss and ran the curved side of his hook along the side of her face, down her neck, then her torso, careful not to snag it on the fabric. When he reached her waist, he pulled his shirt out of her waistband and slipped his good hand underneath, sliding his fingers over the smooth skin of her stomach. He kept his eyes locked with hers, as he continued his sensual assault on her body, his hand creeping ever higher.

As much as it pained him, Killian brought his hook up and sliced off the buttons of Emma's vest. Buttons could be replaced; he didn't want to stop touching her.

“Shirt, love,” he whispered low in her ear.

Emma slid the vest off her shoulders allowing it to fall to the floor. Then she crossed her arms and lifted his shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing anything underneath it, except her gold necklace which hung between her breasts. Killian's breath hitched in his throat; he never got tired of admiring her. She was exquisite. But it wasn't enough to just admire her; he needed to taste her skin. He started at the curve of her throat and worked his way down her chest, suckling her breasts. Emma threw her head back and groaned. Killian kept his hand and hook at her waist to support her, but Emma had to reach back and grab his desk chair, lest she topple over. Killian ran his tongue around her navel, caressing her heated skin with the cool steel of his hook, knowing the contrast drove her mad.

“Killian,” Emma panted. “Please.”

Killian looked up at her. “Begging already, darling?” he murmured into her skin. “Why, we've only just begun.”

He understood her though. He wanted her just as badly. He'd wanted her from the moment she stepped on board, but then he always did. Then seeing her dressed as full fledged pirate and denying him in favor of swordplay? He was wound as tight as he'd ever been in his life. But that's why he wanted to torment her, just for a little while. So he quashed the urge to just throw her over the edge of the map table and have his way with her. Killian wanted to remember this.

Slowly, he unlaced the front of her leather pants. Smirking up at her, he slipped his fingers in and teased her the way he knew she liked. Emma tried grinding her hips into his hand, but it was an awkward angle. She growled in frustration and reached for his wrist, but stopped herself just in time.

“I know, love, I know.”

In an effort to both appease her and further torment her, Killian make quick work of her boots and pants, tossing them aside. The only barrier that remained were her panties, in seconds they were gone too, torn to shreds by his hook. Killian nipped at the inside of her thighs; Emma spread her legs to give him better access. Killian kissed his way to the apex of her thighs, his hand and hook trailing his wake up her thighs. The muscles there quivered in anticipation. Abruptly, Killian stood up and Emma screamed in frustration.

“You're kidding, right?” she whined.

Killian just cocked an eyebrow. “Bed, now,” he ordered.

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again. She glared at him, but did as he asked. “Lay back,” he said. Once she did, Killian pulled out a scarlet silk scarf. “Hands above your head.” Order obeyed, Killian carefully tied the scarf around her wrists and secured it to the headboard. Emma pulled on it experimentally, but he'd been tying knots like this for over three hundred years, it was no use.

“Remember the last time I tied you up?” Emma nodded. “I told you that you'd get a demonstration? Consider this your demonstration.” Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I promise this time will have a more pleasant outcome.” He stood up, grinning as Emma shivered.

Then Killian went to work on his own clothes. Soon his waistcoat, shirt and boots were scattered on the floor. He saw Emma watching him, the annoyance gone now and lust in its place. Emma's hands struggled against her silken bonds; the itch to touch him slowly driving her mad. Killian kicked off his pants and climbed into the bed, kneeling between her spread legs. Slowly, savoring the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, Killian ran hand the length of her body.

Emma squirmed under his touch. “Damn it, Killian,” she breathed.

Killian ignored her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and sucked on her pulse point. Emma raised her hips, trying to get any kind of friction. Killian hissed as she made contact with his shaft and pushed her back down on the bed. “What is rule number one, Emma?” he asked sternly.

“No touching.”

“Rule number two? Not a sound.”

Emma's eyes widened. He stared at her until she nodded her acknowledgment. He loved all the little sounds she made, lived to hear her scream his name in ecstasy, but not this time. This time he wanted her to experience all that pleasure without making a sound. And in this game, Killian was determined to get what he wanted.

Satisfied that Emma understood, Killian slid down the bed and lowered his head between her legs. He paused to inhale her scent, a mixture of sunflowers and vanilla. Again the urge to just take her threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it. He wanted to drive her that much closer to the edge of sanity. Killian placed his left arm on her stomach to keep Emma from squirming before darting out his tongue to lick her slit. Killian could _feel_ her need to cry out as he licked and sucked and teased her, at the same time avoiding where she wanted him most. But Emma remained quiet. Pleased, Killian slipped a finger inside her; he could feel her inner walls clamp down on the digit immediately. As he slowly moved it, Killian sucked that small bundle of nerves between his lips. He could feel her peak start to build, but just before she could fall over the precipice, he stopped. Emma's head came up as she shot him a murderous glare; her blonde hair was plastered to her forehead and she was breathing heavily. And Killian had her right where he wanted her.

Killian licked his finger clean, keeping his eyes locked on her stormy gaze. Emma unconsciously licked her lips as she watched him. He smirked as he crawled up her body, stretched out in front of him. Lazily, he brushed some of her damp hair out of her face and kissed her breathless. He felt her legs rise along his flanks, but was too lost his own lust to chide her for it. All the deprivation, frustration and torment was building to this moment. Killian shifted his hips and sank inside her with a groan. And it stopped being a game. He wanted her – no, _needed_ her – to touch him. Bracing himself on his left arm, Killian reached up and deftly untied the knot that held Emma to the bed.

Emma took the hint for what it was and wrapped herself tightly around him, so that he was no longer sure where he ended and she began. Her legs wound around his waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. Emma's hands trailed across his shoulders and down his back, everywhere feeling like electric shocks. Killian started to move, shallow at first, but the intensity of their connection became too much. His thrusts grew more and more erratic, he was too close, he wasn't going to last much longer. Emma bit her lip to keep from crying out; he could feel that she was close. On instinct, he changed the angle and Emma could no longer contain her cries as he hit that spot he knew would make her scream. Her whole body shook with the intensity of her climax as she clawed at Killian's back. Seconds later, Killian followed her over the edge, screaming her name as he did.

Completely drained, Killian collapsed on top of her. Gradually, it occurred to him that he could be squashing her, but Emma made no protest. She did manage to reach up and stroke his hair lovingly. He kissed her collarbone in gratitude and for a few moments they just enjoyed being close. When a cool draft slipped into the cabin, Killian rolled off her and pulled the duvet over them with his hook. Emma laid her head on his chest; Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her there.

“That...was something,” Emma murmured.

“Aye.” Killian caught sight of Emma's right wrist on his chest. It was a bit pinker than he remembered. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Emma raised her head. “I am fine. Perfect even. I'm a tough lass, remember?”

Killian smiled at the memory. “Indeed you are. And you're mine.”

“I should hope so. Unless you know any other handsome pirates hereabouts?” she deadpanned.

“Can't say that I do, love. Guess you're stuck with me.”

“I think I can handle that,” she replied, grinning. She laid her head back down. “It's getting dark,” she commented, looking out the cabin window.

“Aye.”

“How far do you think we are from Storybrooke?”

Killian thought about it, wondering where she was going with this. “We're a good twenty miles off shore, love. Why?”

“You've never told me about Neverland. Not all of it anyway.”

Aside from that less than flattering story about Tinkerbell, Killian hadn't told her much about Neverland. But then again, Emma hadn't asked. Until now. “What...” he began, then it clicked. “Oh, you mean that 'second star to the right' rubbish your realm thinks about it.”

“Are you saying there isn't a star?”

Killian toyed with a lock of her hair. “Oh, there is. But there are too many stars in the sky for it to the 'to the right' of anything, really. Would you like me to show you?”

“Maybe in a little while. I can't really move right now.”

“Oh good,” Killian said in mock relief. “Because I can't either.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let's just rest up and I'll show you the way to Neverland.”

They dozed for an couple of hours. When they awoke, it was completely dark. Emma rose and rummaged around for a match. Finding the box, she lit one and used it to light two of the candles. With that small amount of illumination, they both dressed. The late October air was turning chilly after a few weeks of Indian summer. Emma shrugged into her new black coat, the one that Killian liked to joke made them match. She followed Killian out onto the deck. He lead her out to the bow; the sails couldn't obstruct their view from there.

“Are the stars different here?” Emma asked. “I wondered back in the Enchanted Forest, but never asked.”

“Aye, they are. Well, most of them anyway. There are a few that are the same.”

“Like the one to Neverland?”

“Exactly. And the...what did you call it? The North Star? That's the same too.”

“That's good. Because it's the only one I actually know.”

Killian laughed. “Well, that won't do. Not if you're planning on spending time at sea.”

“And am I?”

“That, my love, is entirely up to you. But I hope so.”

“Guess it's a good thing I have a good teacher, huh?”

“I knew I loved you for a reason.”

“Kindred souls, remember?”

“I thought you'd forgotten that.”

“How could I? You scared the crap out of me with that.”

“Well, you _were_ being stubborn, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Are you gonna show me this star or what?”

Killian pulled his spy glass out of his pocket and extended it to its full length. He held it up and scanned the sky. There were more dark spots than he remembered from the last time he'd been teaching Henry to navigate by the stars. Maybe it was just clouds or something? He dismissed the thought immediately; the night sky was clear. Something felt wrong, but Killian was damned if he could figure out what it was. He lowered the spy glass, thinking.

“Killian,” Emma asked, “is everything alright?”

“Hmmm?”

“I _said_ , is everything alright? You kinda spaced out on me.”

He looked at her, her features pale in the faint moonlight. “Everything's fine, love,” he said, knowing she'd spot the lie the second he uttered it. Emma just cocked an eyebrow knowingly. Killian sighed. “It's just something I want to check against those star charts you got me. But Henry has them.” Which was entirely true; all this could be his mind playing tricks on him and his only way of verifying his hunch was back in Storybrooke. Emma seemed to accept this explanation without further protest. Killian hated being evasive with her, but until he was sure there was something to be worried about, it was pointless to worry her.

Killian turned his attention back to the sky, determined to do what they had come out there to do. The Neverland star was more difficult to find in this realm, but after a few minutes more of searching he found it. It filled the glass, twinkling in all blue and green glory. The same color as Emma's eyes, he noted absently. He pulled down the glass hand handed it to Emma.

“Look there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the star.

Emma held the glass up and peered through it. “There are so many,” she muttered. “Which one is it?”

He nudged her arm slightly to the right. “Do you see the blue and green one?”

“Oh! I see it!” she exclaimed happily. Her grin and excitement was infectious and Killian found himself smiling back at her; his worry temporarily forgotten. “So can you really use it to get there?” she asked.

Killian nodded. “You can, but I don't recommend it. Portal's faster and safer. Especially with this old girl,” he explained, running his hand affectionately along the rail. “Plus you don't know how to fly.”

“Fly? That's a joke, right?”

“Peter thought it was. That insufferable hellion used that trick for _everything_. Too full of himself to just walk anywhere, the sod.”

“I can't believe I'm talking to you about Peter Pan, like he's a real person.”

“Oh, he's very real, love. After all this, you still have trouble believing? Should I be wounded?” he teased.

Emma laughed. “No, it's just that...” she trailed off, trying to form her thought. “When I was little, I read that story, Captain Hook, Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, all of it. I _devoured_ it. Because Peter was like me, no parents, no adults of any kind really. And he refused to grow up. I wanted that, that freedom. Growing up like I did, it was lonely. You never got attached to anything or anyone. But I always had Peter.”

“Now I _am_ jealous,” Killian mock pouted.

Emma leaned up and kissed him. “Oh, it's no contest. Young Emma was foolish; Captain Hook is totally where it's at.”

Killian brushed her hair back with his good hand. “You are an extraordinary woman, Emma Swan.”

“Right back at you, Killian Jones.”

As they headed back to their cabin, neither saw the star of Neverland blink out of sight.


	3. Chapter 2

“ _No!” he screamed, struggling against his bonds._

_Rumplestiltskin smiled hatefully at Milah as he plunged his heart into her chest. She cried out as he pulled her glowing heart out and clutched it in his palm. Frantic, Killian used a nearby hook to cut the ropes that bound him and rushed to her side. Thunder crashed in the darkening sky, but it barely registered. Cradling her in his arms, Milah's blue eyes were wide with fear as she looked up at him. “It's okay,” she said. “Promise me something, Killian.”_

_His throat constricted painfully, tears welled in his eyes. “Anything,” he whispered. Fat drops of rain started to fall, blurring his vision._

“ _Protect her,” Milah said. “She needs you.”_

_Killian looked at his love, confused. “Who, love?”_

_Weakly, Milah shook her head. “Promise me, Killian.”_

_Still confused, he nodded._

“ _How touching,” Rumplestiltskin spat. Killian looked on in horror as the demon crushed Milah's heart between his fingers, the dust falling to the ground._

_His eyes flew back to Milah. With her last breath, she said. “I love you.”_

Killian's eyes flew open, his breathing coming in gasps. It had been so long since he'd had that nightmare. For decades it had haunted him. Gradually, as Milah's memory faded and all he was left with was the hate, the nightmare had faded as well. It had been replaced by others, just as terrifying. But this one was...wrong. There had been no storm the day Milah died. And she certainly hadn't had him promise her anything. She'd barely had enough breath to tell him she loved him, thanks to her demon of a husband. It was confusing and painful to say the least. As his breathing slowed, Killian reached across for Emma. She was gone. Still unsettled by the nightmare, Killian needed to see her, hold her, remind himself that she was real. He climbed out of the bed and pulled on his trousers. He didn't bother with a shirt, finding Emma was more important than some momentary discomfort from the chill.

After peaking in the galley and finding no trace of Emma, Killian went topside. Sure enough, there she was, standing near the capstan. Relief flooded through him. She was wearing only his shirt; the hem fluttered enticingly around the tops of her thighs. Quietly as not to disturb her thoughts nor burden her with his troubles, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“It's early,” she murmured quietly.

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Chilly too, love. And you are hardly dressed.”

Emma turned her head and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you complaining?” she teased.

Every second he held her, the nightmare became less and less of a concern. Emma was here and she was all he needed. “Hardly. I'd just hate for you to spend the rest of our weekend sick.”

“You know that's a myth, right? Cold weather in and of itself does not cause sickness.”

“If you say so, love.”

Emma pressed herself closer to him. “I'm warmer now, anyway.”

Killian groaned. “We'd be even warmer in our cabin, you know.”

“But I like it out here; it's peaceful.”

Killian understood what she meant; out here, with nothing but the sea for company, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. You could be your own master, create your own destiny. It was one of the things Killian loved best about the sea. And for someone like Emma, whose life had been largely laid out for her against her will, that freedom was a strong pull. It was just another way they were perfectly suited to one another.

He tightened his grip on her. “I love you, Emma. So much.”

Emma ran her hands over his forearms, goosebumps rising on his skin in their wake. “Every time I think I'm used to hearing you say that, I realize I'm not.”

“I don't say it enough,” he replied honestly.

Emma twisted in his arms, facing him. “You can't be serious. You tell me every day. At least once. If anything, _I'm_ the one who doesn't say it enough.”

He gazed steadily into her blue green eyes. “I could say it every minute of every day and it still wouldn't be enough.”

Emma's eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly. His brave, stubborn lass; there were still times that she could not comprehend the intensity of what he felt for her. Of just what having her love and trust meant to him. “Is this because of Milah?” she asked gently.

He blinked in surprise, wondering how she could possibly know about his nightmare. That's when he realized she didn't have to know about his nightmare, she just knew _him_. There was no jealously in her gaze, only understanding. Killian swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and averted his eyes, staring out at the sea. “I didn't tell her. Not when it counted. She was dying in my arms and...I just couldn't. And I'll never get the chance to make it right. It's not a mistake I wish to repeat.”

Emma placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Hey,” she said seriously, “if she's anything like me, then she knew. She died trying to protect you, Killian. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't believe in her heart that you loved her.”

_Protect her. She'll need you._ “I should have been the one protecting her,” he argued.

“From what you've told me, Milah was a smart, tough woman who knew what she wanted out of life. I may not agree with all of her choices, but protecting the man she loved? That I get. A relationship is a two way street, Killian. You protect _each other_. It's not an either/or kind of thing. We've saved each other plenty of times now. And knowing our crazy lives, I'm sure we'll do it again. There's nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for you, Killian. Or Henry. Or my parents. I've spent too many years alone. I won't be that person again. Not if I can prevent it. So you're just gonna have to deal with that.”

Killian crushed her against his chest. “I don't deserve you, Emma Swan.”

Emma smiled against his skin. “I didn't think I'd ever have this,” she said. “After Neal, I didn't think I could. It hurt too much. But then this pirate came barreling into my life and somehow knocked down every wall I had like they were nothing.”

Killian chuckled. “Sounds like a persistent fellow. Should I be jealous?”

Emma leaned up and kissed him. “Probably. He's mind blowingly great in bed too.”

“Mind blowing, huh? We'll have to see what we can do about that. Because I'm not giving you up, love.”

With that, Killian picked her up once again and carried her off to their cabin, Emma's joyous laugh sailing out across the water. His nightmare was completely forgotten.

“Why do you always act like I can't walk anywhere?” Emma pouted as he threw her down on the bed once more.

Killian tucked a spare blanket under the gap at the door, intent on keeping out the lingering chill. He didn't want to leave their room again. “You say that, darling,” he drawled, “but secretly I think you love it.”

“In your dreams, buddy,” she countered.

He nodded. “Frequently.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You're impossible.”

“And yet you love me,” he argued, looming over her.

“I'm beginning to rethink that,” she deadpanned.

“Well, we can't have that now,” he said, before capturing her lips with his own. He poured everything he felt for her – love, gratitude, awe, wonder – into the kiss. Emma moaned into his mouth, bringing her hand behind his neck to pull him closer. She slid her tongue over his, guiding him over her with his body. She clung to him, her kisses echoing his increasing passion for her. His good hand ran down her torso, over her hip and along her leg, drawing it up around his hip. Emma ground her hips into his as he kissed along her jawline.

“Easy, love,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“How do you always do this to me?” she gasped. “I just _want_ you. I've never wanted anyone the way I always want you.”

So it wasn't just him. Their physical connection was potent from the moment they met, despite their best efforts to avoid it or brush it off. But it paled in comparison to the reality. Killian knew it from their first kiss all those months ago, when she bandaged his shoulder. It had been like any kiss he'd ever had and looking back at it now, that's when he knew he was completely lost to her.

“I know, Emma. I feel it too. I've never felt anything like it before.”

Emma looked at him with incredulous eyes. “Really?”

“One day I will make you understand just what it is I feel for you, Emma. I don't care how long it takes.”

Emma dragged his mouth to hers and kissed him fervently. She pulled back a fraction and said, “Make love to me, Killian.”

Killian flashed her a grin, before kissing her once more. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging on it with increasing pressure. He moaned, thrusting his still clothed hips toward hers involuntarily. Impatiently, he pushed his shirt up her body; he wanted to feel her skin under his fingertips. It was moments like this he was frustrated by the loss of his left hand. Until Emma, he'd accepted it as part of himself, as punishment. But now...he longed to have two hands to touch her with. Emma never complained, never talked about it. He knew that she accepted him as he was and it meant the world to him. But that didn't make the desire to love her as a whole man go away.

Emma rained kisses along his throat; he groaned when her lips brushed the sensitive spot along his collarbone. “Gods,” he whispered. She smiled against his skin and repeated the action. Desire shot straight through him; he couldn't take this torment much longer. He needed to be inside her. He reached down between them and freed himself of his pants, kicking them to the floor. Killian rolled them over and urged Emma to sit up. Obligingly, she straddled his hips, teasing him with her wet folds.

“Emma,” he ground out.

She didn't say anything, but she regarded him with near black eyes as she continued to torment him. Then she bit her lip and lifted his shirt over her head. The gold coin he'd given her rose and fell as she breathed, glinting in the morning light. Killian reached up and ran his hand over it and along the chain. Until he could give her something more permanent, it was the symbol of what she meant to him and how she'd changed his life that day in the Enchanted Forest. His hand came to rest over her heart; Emma looked down and pressed her hands to his. Then one trailed down his arm and came to rest over his rapidly beating heart.

“I love you,” she said.

He stared at her, the love she had for him swimming in her eyes as clear as the ever rolling waves of the ocean. Emma chose that moment to extend their connection, as she rose up slightly and took him into her wet heat. Neither moved, caught up in the power of the moment. They were connected in every way, physical, emotional, spiritual. Killian couldn't help but think that this was what True Love felt like; he opened his mouth to tell her so, but Emma placed a finger on his lips. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know; she felt it too.

Emma placed both hands on his chest and started to rock above him. Killian fought to keep still; he wanted her to set the pace. He was mesmerized by the sight of Emma rising and falling over him, her blonde hair falling in a curtain across her face. She bent down to capture his lips; he brushed her hair back carefully with his hand and hook. A thin sheen of sweat covered their skin as Emma continued to undulate in his lap. The need to slam his hips into hers was nearly unbearable; as if sensing his frustration, Emma grabbed his right hand and brought it to her hip.

“Take what you want, Captain.”

Killian wasted no time, rolling them over once more. He only slipped out of her for a second, but it was a second too long. He took her roughly, swallowing her cry with his mouth. Emma ran her fingers along his spine, her nails lightly scratching his skin. A fresh frisson of desire coursed through him and his grip on her hip tightened to nearly bruising force. Emma made no complaint; she merely clutched at him, almost as if should could not get him close enough.

“Faster,” she panted. “So...close.”

Killian did as she asked, helpless to do anything but give her what she wanted. Soon he could feel her inner walls begin to flutter around him, then she was there. “Fuck!” she yelled, her eyes squeezed shut as she came apart underneath him. Killian gasped at the stranglehold she had on him, just on the edge of his own release. He pushed through it and cried out as spilled himself inside her.

Killian pressed his forehead to hers; their pants intermingling. “Gods, love,” he muttered when he regained some semblance of speech.

“Yeah.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before rolling off her. Emma didn't move, her chest rising and falling steadily. Carefully, Killian laid his head on her chest, next to her heart. He could hear it beating rapidly, echoing his own. Gradually, it started to slow. Killian stretched his left arm across her stomach and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just wanted to be close to her. He could feel Emma's fingers drawing lazy patterns along his back and he hummed contentedly.

Killian wasn't sure how long they laid there, but it wasn't long enough. There was never enough time when it came to her. But their bodies didn't seem to care; Emma's stomach rumbled.

“Ignore it,” Killian mumbled. He was betrayed though when his own rumbled loudly.

“When was the last time you ate?” Emma muttered.

“Don't know,” he replied. “But I don't want to move.”

Emma sighed. “Well, neither do I, but we can't stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”

Killian raised his head. “Still, darling?” he smirked. “Insatiable, you are.”

She swatted at him playfully. “As much as I would like round...I'm not even sure, honestly,” she replied, blushing, “I _was_ talking about food.”

“Food is overrated.” But just as he spoke, there was a distant clap of thunder. Reluctantly, Killian sat up. There weren't storms in the forecast for this weekend; he had checked. But he knew that meant little at sea; squalls could pop up at any time with very little warning.

Emma immediately noticed his apprehension. “What is it?”

“Storm's coming.”

“Is that bad?”

Emma still had very little time at sea, comparatively speaking; Killian had never taken her out when the skies threatened to weep. Until she had more experience, it was just a bad idea all around. Killian got out of the bed and started to dress. With just him, it was going to take some time to get everything squared away.

“Killian?” Emma asked, interrupting his mental checklist. “You never answered me.”

“Sea squalls can be nasty, love. There's a good chance that it's a small one and will pass us by soon enough, but there are still some things I need to square away, just in case.”

“You mean like 'batten down the hatches'?”

“Something like that, aye.”

“Can I help?”

He thought. There were dozens of things that needed to be done on deck, none of which Emma had done before. If Henry were here...but he wasn't. No matter, Killian could do those by himself. The room swayed; the seas were getting rougher. There wasn't much time now. But Emma wouldn't be happy doing nothing; then it came to him.

“Do you remember how to secure the portholes?”

“Yeah.” 

“Head below and make sure all the portholes are closed. Check carefully, with these high seas they need to be good and tight. Then I'll meet you down in the galley; we'll have some lunch while we wait this out, yeah?”

Emma was out of the bed before he finished. “Be careful, okay?” she said, kissing him quickly.

“Not to worry, love. Been through hundreds of storms. This is nothing.”

 

_Liar_ , Emma thought as she looked out the porthole. She'd done as Killian asked, gone below decks to close the portholes. She peaked out each one before she closed it and the sky was getting progressively darker. It didn't look like a small storm to her. Thunder boomed again and Emma flinched. She wasn't afraid...yet. She trusted Killian's seafaring instincts. But the lack of solid ground under her feet was not exactly comforting at the moment. Emma moved the next porthole, determined not to look, but failing miserably. This time instead of the sky, Emma focused on the sea. That was a bad idea. The gently rolling sea of that morning was now a frothing pitching mess. Waves broke against the hull of the _Jolly Roger_ with increasing frequency. They were past the magical barrier to Storybrooke; if they sank, no one could come look for them. And they couldn't exactly call the Coast Guard to ask them to be on the lookout for a pirate ship. The deck rolled violently again; Emma braced herself against a nearby beam. She was being silly; they weren't going to sink. Shaking her head, Emma closed the last porthole, studiously ignoring the black clouds that rolled ever closer.

Emma made her way to the galley in record time; she only got lost once. Killian was nowhere to be found. She lit a couple of the lanterns to make sure. Extorting herself not to worry, Emma started digging around for something to eat. Her lips quirked up when she saw the peanut butter and jelly. Good old fashioned PBJ. Emma found the bread in another cupboard and studiously began making sandwiches. On the third one, Emma heard the heavens open. Rain lashed the ancient, enchanted wood. More thunder cracked, closer now. She tried to remember that trick for gauging how far away lightening was, but realized it was useless. She couldn't actually see anything from the galley; there were no windows. Without a thought, she stopped making sandwiches, unable to focus until Killian turned up.

She tried checking her watch, but cursed when she saw that she'd forgotten it in her haste. Emma was about to go when the door to the galley opened. Killian stepped through it, soaked to the bone. “Oh my god,” she cried.

“I'm fine, Emma,” he assured her. “Just a bit wet.”

There was a gash on his forehead, right at his hairline. “You are _not_ fine,” she countered. “What happened?”

Killian raised his good hand to his forehead; he seemed surprised when his fingers came away bloody. “Took a bit of a header into the cathead during a particularly violent pitch of the deck. It's nothing.”

“The what?” Emma asked, looking for something to clean up the blood.

“Cathead. It's what the anchor hangs from.” 

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Of course, love. I told you, it's nothing,” he hissed as she dabbed his wound with some alcohol she found. “Please tell me you're not wasting perfectly good rum on this,” he joked.

“So your rum is good enough for my hand, but not your head?”

“Exactly. A princess's wounds are always more important than a dirty old pirate's.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but secretly she was relieved. She was no doctor, but it didn't appear that he had a concussion. As she cleaned the wound, it wasn't as bad as it had initially appeared. “No stitches this time,” she commented.

“You're not going to magically heal me?” he asked.

Emma shrugged. “Like you said, it's nothing. Probably won't even scar.”

“Emma...”

Emma grinned. “So vain, Captain.”

“One must maintain certain standards with a princess on one's arm.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but brushed her fingers over the wound. In a second, it was gone. With as accident prone as Henry and Killian were, Emma had gotten quite adept at that. She leaned up and kissed the spot for good measure, remembering the first time she'd patched him up after he'd saved her life in the Enchanted Forest.

“What are you thinking, love?” Killian asked.

Emma's hand drifted to his shoulder; she could feel the slightly raised edge of the scar through the material of his wet shirt. His eyes followed her. “You do seem to patch me up a lot,” he commented.

“You're very injury prone for a pirate.”

“There's a princess I know who keeps landing herself in harm's way.”

“Always a sucker for a pretty face, Captain. I'll have to keep a closer eye on you. I don't like sharing.”

Killian leaned down and captured her lips with his. Emma kissed him back, her hand curling into his wet shirt. Their mouths were wrenched apart as the ship pitched violently to the left. Emma staggered into Killian's chest, his arms were around her in a second.

“We're fine,” he murmured into her hair. “We're fine.”

“It looked bad.”

“I've been through worse, love. Besides, the _Jolly Roger_ 's an old, solid ship. We've weathered many a storm together, me and her. She'll see us though.”

Emma pulled away, determined not to let him think that she couldn't handle this. It was just a storm. They would be fine. “So what do we do now? Besides getting you some dry clothes,” she said.

“Now we wait.”

“Sounds exciting,” she deadpanned. Although, being cooped up with Killian Jones? There were worst things in the world. “Go change. You're soaked in salt water.”

He was gone longer than she would have liked given the circumstances. There was something about all this that didn't feel right. Emma was certain she'd checked the weather before they left; there were no storms in the forecast. Not that this would be the first time the weatherman had gotten things wildly, fantastically wrong. Emma wondered how they were coping with the storm in Storybrooke. Oh god, her parents were probably worried sick. There was nothing for it though; Emma hadn't brought her phone and even if she had, there was no service in the middle of the ocean. What was she supposed to do, send them a smoke signal?

“I know that look,” Killian accused when he returned.

“I was just thinking, Mary Margaret and David must be worried about us.”

“Aye, I'll probably get an ear full when we return about taking their daughter into harm's way.”

“I'm serious, Killian.”

“So am I,” he said. “Sometimes I get the feeling that they don't approve of us as much as they claim to.”

Emma half smiled. “Well, I doubt they envisioned their daughter with a pirate, especially one as infamous as Captain Hook.”

“No doubt they'd have tried to marry you off to some ponce of a prince,” he said, a look of sheer distaste twisting his features.

“Yeah, I'd like to have seen them try. Besides, who believes in True Love more than Snow White and Prince Charming?”

Killian took one of the PBJ sandwiches and took a thoughtful bite. “If life had taken it's natural course, love, we'd have never met. You'd have grown up in your parent's castle, a proper princess.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Don't think I'm really cut out for the princess life. All those poofy dresses and balls? No thanks.”

“But you'd have had your parents; you wouldn't have been alone.”

“I don't even know who that girl would be,” she said, munching on her own sandwich. “Whoever she is, she wouldn't be me.”

“If it's worth anything, I quite like you, just as you are.”

“Just 'quite like,' huh? Maybe I should find that pirate after all.”

Killian came around the table and pulled her into his arms. “I'll kill anyone who tried to take you from me,” he whispered in her ear.

Emma shivered. The idea of belonging to someone – of being referred to as a possession – should be an anathema to her. Didn't it go against the whole “strong independent woman” thing? But Emma – who had been alone all her life – found it comforting and very much a turn on. Because as much as he claimed she was his, he was equally hers. And he knew it. In fact, he practically reveled in the few times her own possessiveness flared. Each day Emma became more convinced that their meeting was not an accident. She hated the words fate and destiny, but what else could explain it?

“You're the only one that I want,” she assured him.

“Too right.”

The floor shifted under them once more, as the storm continued to rage outside. “Maybe we should go find a place more conducive to sitting?” she suggested.

“Good idea.”

They gathered the rest of the food Emma had put together and left the galley. Emma followed Killian through the bowels of the ship until they emerged on berth deck. “I said sitting, Killian. If I wanted to go back to bed, I'd have suggested our quarters.”

“Too much rain in our quarters, I'm afraid. Besides, I have something for you.”

The ship lurched under them. A sickening second later, it righted itself. “Okay, _that_ can't be good.”

Killian ran his hand along the ancient wood, the worry etched on his face. He tried to hide it from her, but she knew him too well. Killian was worried and for the first time, Emma was well and truly afraid. “This isn't a normal storm, is it?”

“I don't know, love,” he said honestly. “But it _is_ strange. I'd have thought a sudden squall would have blown itself out by now. This shows no signs of stopping or even slowing down.”

Thunder boomed above them, louder than ever. Emma distinctly heard a crack.

“Bloody hell,” Killian swore.

“What was that?”

“One of the spars most likely. I won't know until I can go out and assess the damage.”

“ _Now?”_

“Bloody suicide to step out onto the deck now,” he said. “I'll just have to wait until the storm passes.”

“If it passes.”

“It will.”

“But you just said...”

Killian grasped her gently by the shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

Emma stared into his sea blue eyes, imploring her. She swallowed, pushing her fear aside. “I trust you.”

“Good. What we need right now is a distraction. Something to fill the time until the gods decide to grant us a reprieve.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“These,” he replied, leading her over to the small cabinet near the door. He pulled open the door and inside the cabinet were stacks of journals. “Every single captain's log I ever wrote.”

“There are so many.”

“Well, three hundred years is a long time, love. I wanted to show you these sooner, but the time never seemed right.” As Emma reached for one at random, he caught her cheek with his hand. “Some of these could be hard reading, darling.”

Emma covered his hand with hers. “I don't just love the part of you that's nice, Killian. I love _you_ , good, bad, ugly. I know who you are; my eyes are open. They always have been.”

Abruptly, he leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, Emma.”

There were no chairs in the semi cramped crew quarters, so they curled up on the floor, using some spare pillows and blankets as cushions. Emma cracked open the first journal and started to read. A lot of it was innocuous, every day dealings on the ship. Occasionally, Killian's scrawl was little more than chicken scratch and she had to get him to translate it. Those more mundane logs certainly didn't make life on board a pirate ship sound glamorous. Lots of searching and not finding, storms, infractions by the crew. But if stealing booty was the standard for being a good pirate, Killian had been one of the best. She didn't recognize any names, which made sense. Killian's pirate days were mostly three hundred years before even her parents had been born.

Killian was mostly quiet while she read. The storm continued to rage, but Killian was right. Absorbed in the pages, Emma could tune the storm out. Except when the floor would rock and she lost her place. When she picked up the book again, she got to an entry that made her gasp.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it, love?”

“I found Milah.” She looked at him. “Are you sure you want me reading this?” It felt too private; she wasn't even sure she _could_ read it. She wasn't jealous of a ghost; Emma understood that no two loves were the same. That the love Killian had for Milah and the love he had for her were very different. But she didn't want to reopen old wounds, especially not in front of him. If he didn't want her to to read it, then she wouldn't. Even though there was a tiny part of her that desperately wanted to understand this woman, who had inspired such love and loyalty. She was Henry's grandmother, after all.

“Aye,” he confirmed. “And I think she would too. She'd have liked you.”

“I don't know about that.”

Killian wrapped his arm around her and she snuggled into his chest. “Go on, Emma. It's alright, love. I've got you.”

Emma smiled tentatively, still not convinced this was a good idea. But she turned back to the log book and started to read. A lot of it she already knew: Killian meeting Milah in the tavern, begging him to take her away, that final confrontation with Rumplestiltskin. But in between there was a story: a simple spinner's wife who dreamed big and who had been desperately unhappy. A woman who saw her chance at the life she'd always dreamed of and took it, but not without regret. A tear slipped down Emma's cheek as she read Killian's description of Milah crying into her pillow when she thought he was asleep. Whatever else Milah was, she was a mother who loved her son and regretted leaving him. That was something Emma could understand; she'd felt the same when she'd given up Henry. Milah had no way of knowing that Rumplestiltskin would become the Dark One and abandon their son a second time. She'd taken comfort in knowing that Baelfire still had a father who loved him with all his heart. Maybe Emma had been wrong and she and Milah were more alike than she'd thought. Reading those entries, she could see why Killian had loved her. For a decade, they had been happy and then Rumplestiltskin had taken it all away in a fit of rage.

Emma wiped at her eyes when she finished. She looked up at Killian and she could see the pain in his eyes, still. She twisted in his arms and hugged him. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

“No, love. I don't want you wasting those on me. What's done is done.”

“Hey, you were there for me all through the Neal drama,” she reminded him. “What happened with Milah has made you who you are. And I love you. I hate what Gold did to you and to her. No one deserves that. And it's not your fault. All you did was love her.”

Killian kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you, Emma.”

She chuckled. “I didn't do anything, not really.” She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “You know if she hadn't run away with you, we wouldn't be here right now.”

“How do you figure, love?”

Emma pulled away from him, so she could face him properly. This line of thinking unsettled her, but there really was no other explanation. “Remember when you said that I'd have grown up with my parents if life had proceeded normally?”

“Aye.”

“My whole life – my very existence – was planned by Rumplestiltskin, right? He conspired so that my parents could meet, so that I could break the curse. Well, he needed the curse to find his son. He abandoned Neal because he couldn't give up being the Dark One. Milah left him because he was a coward. It all goes back to that. If Milah hadn't run away with you, Rumplestiltskin probably would have never been the Dark One and abandoned his son. Ergo, we'd never have met.”

“Because I'd have been long dead and you never even born.”

“Exactly.”

“Fate can be a cruel mistress, love.”

“I don't believe in fate.”

“Well, I do. Did Henry tell you about giving me the compass when I went to find you in Wonderland?”

“No, why?”

“He told me the compass – _our_ compass – was in his book. And that it would point you to your heart's desire. That it had brought us together once and could do it again. And I told him it was fate.”

“Killian...”

“Maybe us falling in love isn't fate. But despite all the odds against us, we're together. We're supposed to be in each other's lives, Emma. I feel it. Call it whatever you want, but it doesn't make it any less true.”

Emma stared at him for a long time. Fate, destiny, all that crap was just that...crap. Life was defined by choice, or so she had thought. But hadn't she chosen to fall in love with him? She'd had dozens of chances to turn him out after he saved her life, but she didn't. Other people's choices had caused them to meet, but everything after that? That was all them and for the first time in her life, Emma was completely in control of her choices. She _had_ chosen him. And he had chosen her. So in a way, they were both right.

Emma looked down at the discarded journal. There was more – dozens she hadn't read – but found she didn't need to. Nothing in them would change how she felt. Killian could tell her about Neverland in his own time. When she got up to put it away, she noticed that it was quieter.

“Listen,” she said. “I think the storm's over.”

Killian stood, listening. “I think you may be right, lass.”

Killian headed for the deck, Emma following. She wasn't about to let him out of her sight. When they emerged, Emma had to blink at the sudden change in light. Off in the distance, she could see the dark remnants of the storm dissipating. The seas were calmer too.

“Gone just as it had come,” Killian muttered. “Bloody hell.”

“What is it?” But she didn't need him to explain, she could see perfectly well. The deck was a mess. The main mast had a scorch mark from what could only have been a lightening strike. A few of the sails had come loose and were fluttering faintly in the dying wind.

“All in all, not as bad as it could have been.”

“That's comforting, I guess?”

“Well, it will take a few hours to get us underway, but there's still some light left,” Killian said.

“We're going home?”

“Aye, not much sense in staying now, is there? And I'm sure Storybrooke needs its Sheriff, if they got hit by the same storm.”

Emma nodded. “Of course, you're right. We still don't know where this even came from. I don't know about you, but something doesn't feel right.”

“You'll get no argument from me, love.”

For the next several hours, they labored to get the _Jolly Roger_ seaworthy once more. Their work mostly finished, Emma joined Killian at the helm. “Would you like to do the honors, sweetheart?”

Emma took the wheel and tacked them around. She felt much more confident now than she did the first time Killian had asked her to steer his beloved ship. Emma could almost feel the connection between her and the ship; it was oddly comforting. Their trip out had been leisurely, but not for nothing was the _Jolly Roger_ the fastest ship in all the realms. Soon enough, Emma could see the Storybrooke harbor. And the sight made her blood run cold.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Killian asked, looking in that direction. “Isn't that the...”

“Library, yeah. It's on fire.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 3

Emma parked the Bug in the shadow of the flames. Storybrooke's lone firetruck was parked nearby; its crew working feverishly to put out the flames. As she and Killian climbed out, Emma saw David standing next to the truck; he looked completely helpless.

“David!” she called.

He looked in the direction of her voice. “Emma! What are you doing here? Wait, did you guys get caught in that storm? Are you okay?”

“We did, but we're fine,” she said, as her father insisted on checking her over for injuries. “What happened here?”

“Well, it came out of nowhere. Snow brought lunch to the station just as it hit. We tried calling Regina to make sure that Henry was okay, but the power went out.”

“Henry! Where is he?”

“Don't worry; he's safe with Regina. Snow went over to her house the second the storm subsided.”

“Did lightening strike the library? Was anybody inside?”

“I don't think so. But Gold hasn't heard from Belle since before the storm and he's...twitchy to say the least.”

“But you're sure she wasn't inside?” The library was Belle's home; she lived in the apartment above. And if anything happened to her...Emma shuddered. Gold's wrath would be something to behold and as far as she could tell this was just as freak accident.

“The fire department checked; they didn't find anyone.”

Emma didn't comment on the absurdity of fairytale characters working a fire like a professional fire department. This was neither the time nor the place. “So what _did_ start the fire?”

David pointed. “The wind uprooted one of the poles; they think the transformer crashed into the clocktower and started it.”

Emma looked at the fiery clocktower sadly; it was the tallest building in town. Emma was fond of it; after all, the clock started again when she decided to stay in Storybrooke permanently. There was no telling the damage that had been wreaked, not until they got the fire out. The most important thing was that there had been no casualties. But that didn't explain where Belle was.

“How's everyone else? Any other incidents from the storm?”

“Not that I've heard. But the power is still out. Most of the phones too.”

“Good thing Storybrooke still has a lot of antiquated technology,” Emma noted, nodding at the firetruck. “OK, you stay here and make sure the fire gets put out and doesn't spread. We don't want to lose the whole street.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go have a talk with Mr. Gold.”

Emma and Killian returned to the Bug. “I suppose it's pointless to ask you to stay in the car while I talk to him.”

“Ask if you want, lass. But I'll just ignore you.”

“I figured. Just try not to antagonize him, please? He'll be extra touchy since it's Belle.”

Killian and Gold largely avoided each other since Emma's talk with the pawnbroker after they returned from Wonderland. It occasionally made dinner at Granny's tense, but it worked mostly. Emma wasn't naïve enough to think their mutual hatred would go away. And she sure as hell was certain that Gold hadn't forgiven her for choosing Killian over Neal. Neal had taken her advice and returned to New York; she hadn't heard from him since. Gold may have been Henry's grandfather, but no one treated him like it, least of all Henry. The tension had been simmering for months and Emma was afraid that this could be the spark that ignited the powder keg.

The bell jangled as she and Killian entered the shop. Gold was nowhere in sight.

“Gold?” Emma called out. “You here?”

A few more silent seconds passed. Emma was starting to worry; it wasn't like Gold not to answer a summons. She was about to go toward the back of the shop when Gold stepped through the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked calmer than Emma expected given the circumstances. And his limp was more pronounced than normal, Emma noted.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, dearie,” Gold began, then he scowled. “ _He's_ not welcome in this establishment, Miss Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Is this really the time for this, Gold?”she said at the same time Killian said, “Sod your welcome, Crocodile.”

Gold glared hard at Killian, before turning back to Emma. “Are you here on official business, Miss Swan? You can stay, if you are.”

Emma got the underlining meaning. As Sheriff, _she_ could stay, but Killian could not. She _so_ did not have time for a pissing contest with the pawnbroker. Rather than answer him, she turned to Killian. “Hey, you want to be my deputy?”

Killian grinned, immediately realizing her game. “I thought you'd never ask, love.”

Emma turned back to Gold, who looked nonplussed. “There, we're both here on official business. Now David said you haven't heard from Belle. Do you have any idea where she is?”

Gold's demeanor immediately changed. His eyes were worried and pained. “No, I don't. We were supposed to meet at Granny's for lunch, but the storm hit and...I have no idea where she could have gone.”

“Were you guys having any...problems, anything that could make her not want to get in contact with you?” It still weirded her out to think of Gold in a relationship, but after bearing witness to the couple's previous break up and eventual reconciliation, she couldn't deny its existence. It had taken Belle some time to get past Gold's attempt on Killian's life, but gradually she had let the man back into her life. From what little Emma could tell (seeing as how she avoided Gold like the plague and wasn't particularly close to Belle), they were relatively happy. But Emma also knew that that happiness was capable of turning on its head in an instant. The fact of the matter was that Gold had a temper and never forgot a grudge. While Emma was certain he would never hurt Belle on purpose, there was every possibility that they had had a fight about something and were on the outs once again. She had to ask; it was her job.

“No,” Gold was saying, defensive. “Miss Swan, once your doting father assured me that Belle was not in the library, I began to look for her.”

“With magic,” Killian said, stepping around Emma and glaring at Gold. Emma could see a muscle jumping his jaw, a tell tale sign that he was angry.

“Yes, _Captain_ ,” Gold replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “With magic. How else would you suggest I look for her?”

“By actually getting up off your sorry arse? Do you even care about this girl at all?”

Even Emma was surprised at the venom in Killian's tone. She had no idea where it was coming from. She knew that they hated each other, but Emma sensed that something else was going on. Gold's face went from worry and annoyance to pure unadulterated rage in a nanosecond. Emma stepped between them, furious at Killian for provoking his nemesis. If she had to face off with Gold and expose her magic to him, she was going to kill Killian. That secret was their only advantage in any confrontation and Killian knew it. _Damn him_ , she thought.

“ _Enough,”_ Emma shouted. “Killian, out in the car. _Now._ ” She stared at him until he compiled. Then she turned back to Gold. “I'm sorry,” she said, hoping that she could diffuse this with a simple apology. “I don't know where that came from. The storm was rougher out at sea.”

“You've attached yourself to a very dangerous man, Miss Swan,” Gold said, angry but calmer. “I warned you when you chose him over my son. You may still reap the consequences of that decision.”

Emma didn't miss the threat. But she didn't have time for more posturing; Belle was still missing. “Look, Gold, your issues with Killian aside, Belle is still missing. Did you have any luck finding her?”

“Would I still be here if I had?”

Emma frowned; then looked outside. The dying fire aside, it was too dark to see anything. If Belle was out there somewhere, they'd have a hell of a time looking for her in the dark. But she had a feeling that Gold wouldn't like her doing _nothing_.

“We'll organize a search party,” she said, turning back to Gold. “We'll double check here in town, but I'm afraid that we can't expand the search until tomorrow.”

“That is...acceptable, Miss Swan,” Gold said, but not looking like it was. At all. But without any kind of lead, what choice did they have? As Emma turned to leave, Gold called out to her.

“Yes?”

“Don't think this the favor you owe me, Miss Swan. A favor I _will_ call in eventually. Not even your pirate can stop me from collecting what's mine. Are we clear?”

Emma gave him a hard look and nodded. “Crystal.” With that, she exited the shop and climbed back into her trusty Bug. Killian was silent next to her; Emma didn't even try and talk to him. She was still too angry. They stopped by the now smoldering library to fill David in on what happened and to start searching the town.

“Emma, what's wrong?” David asked, as Emma finished.

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Killian had words with Gold.”

“I don't know what else you were expecting, Emma. The hate runs too deep, on both sides.”

“How do you deal with it?” she asked, thinking of her mother and Regina.

“Well, I try to keep them as far away from each other as possible for a start,” David replied, knowing she wasn't asking about Killian and Gold. “But there is a key difference: Snow doesn't hate Regina. Despite all the horrible things she's done, your mother still can't hate her. But I can and I do. You, Emma, don't have that luxury. As sheriff, you have to be fair, no matter your personal feelings.”

“I hate what Gold did to him,” she said. “But you're right. If they're going to both stay here, I'll just have to keep them as far apart as possible.”

“Maybe after we find Belle, you, Killian and Henry should take that vacation. Get away until tempers cool down.”

She smiled at him. “Maybe we should. Thanks, David.”

“Listen, you've had a long day. Go home; I'll get the dwarves and Ruby, start searching town. We'll call if we find anything.”

“If the phones are working,” Emma pointed out, as she headed back to the Bug.

Once they got home, Emma headed for the bedroom to change. She still didn't know what to say to Killian. How could he have antagonized Gold like that? He _knew_ how dangerous the man was, knew better than anyone. Gold had held Killian's heart in his hand, for God's sake. And worse, Killian had put Emma's secret in jeopardy. All this after she'd asked him to play nice. It was infuriating. Emma held her head in her hands, as she sat in the bathroom. This was one aspect of relationships that was still foreign to her. In the past, she'd have been out the door a long time ago. And she hated fighting with him.

“You can't stay in the bathroom all night, love.”

“Watch me,” she shot back.

“That's a bit childish, don't you think?”

Emma's head shot up. _Childish?_ She angrily shoved her dirty clothes in the hamper and opened the door. “You can not be serious right now. I'm childish? Me? I'm not the one who got into a pissing contest with the lunatic who's held my heart in his hand!”

“Is that what you think that was?” Killian fumed.

“What else could it have been? I _asked_ you not to goad him, but you just couldn't help yourself! No, you had to mock him about the magic and his limp! You were being a _bully_ , Killian.”

“Being a bully, was I? Even if I was, it's nothing more than that Crocodile deserves! He's nothing more than a bloody coward who blames everybody else for his problems.”

“And what about me, Killian? Did you even _think_ about me? What if he'd gone after you with magic, huh?”

“I don't need you to protect me, Emma.”

Emma shook her head; her face flushed from anger. “ _No,_ you don't get to pull that card with me, Killian Jones. We are in this _together_. I'm not going to stand there and let Gold take a piece out of you because you can't keep your trap shut for five minutes.”

“And I'm not going to stand there and let him manipulate and lie to you!”

Emma blinked. “What are you talking about?” She'd have known if Gold was lying, Killian knew that.

“Rumplestiltskin lies with the truth, Emma. He may have been telling you the literal truth, but that was no ordinary magic he was using to find Belle. He's up to something, I can feel it.”

“I didn't notice anything strange, Killian. Sure, Gold's constantly trying to get one up on...well, _everyone_ , but this is Belle. He wouldn't fool around when it comes to her safety.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I wouldn't if it were you.”

Killian's eyes softened. “Nor would I if it were you, love. But I know what I felt in there. And I know what I saw,” he added, ominously.

“ _What_ did you feel, Killian? And why would you and not me? Aren't we connected now or something?”

“Because I've been to Neverland, Emma. Pixie magic is nothing like the magic you've dealt with. All that faith, trust and pixie dust rubbish. Trust me, I know,” he explained, holding up his hook.

Emma's eyes widened ever so slightly. She'd forgotten. Tinkerbell. The irate pixie had hurled a curse at Killian, fusing his hook to his arm – well, the contraption that held it on at any rate. She'd tried once to undo the curse while Killian was asleep, but she'd had no luck. And Emma hadn't told him about it, not wanting to get his hopes up unnecessarily. Even if she had managed it, Killian was still without a hand, so she'd chalked it up to bad luck and got on with things. Killian's hook had never mattered to her; it was a part of him, she loved him, therefore that was that. But now she saw it with new eyes.

“Killian, are you _sure_ that was pixie magic?”

“You doubt my word?” He frowned and turned away from her.

Emma immediately felt like an idiot. Killian wouldn't lie to her; she trusted him. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “I'm sorry. I believe you, but Killian, don't you think you're jumping to conclusions...just a little? Gold could have gotten that pixie magic from anywhere. Hell, maybe he's had it the whole time. He's got all kinds of creepy stuff in that shop of his.”

“Like my hand?”

For the second time in ten minutes, Emma blinked in surprise. “Sorry, did you say _hand?_ As in your hand?”

“The one he cut off three hundred years ago? Aye, that hand.”

“And you _saw_ it? Where? And why would Gold just leave it lying around?”

“It was in one of the cases,” Killian said, his blue eyes flashing. “That wanker kept it as a _trophy_ , Emma. He kills Milah, cuts off my hand to get his precious bean, _then kept it as a trophy_. Meanwhile I'm stuck with _this_ ,” he spat, flinging down his arm, the hook cutting audibly through the air.

Emma walked over to him, gently taking a hold of his left arm and cradling it against her body. “Where is this coming from, Killian? What he did to you is _awful_ , I get it. But you know I don't care about this,” she said, tapping his hook, “right? I never have. Remember what you told me that night Mary Margaret made us dinner? You said you couldn't imagine yourself without this. _Talk to me, Killian._ ”

Killian stared into her eyes for a moment, then looked away. “I used to think that. I'd done what I had to; I adapted. Learned to cope. It was my punishment to bear, the price for not protecting the woman I loved from a monster. And it was a reminder, every day. A reminder of what I'd lost. A reminder of why I had to stay alive, to avenge Milah's death. You don't know how many times I've dreamt of plunging that hook deep into the Crocodile's chest.”

Emma took one hand off his arm and raised it to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “But you didn't.”

“That's because of _you_ , love. If Cora hadn't threatened your life back in our land, who knows where we'd have ended up? You had betrayed me; I was determined to make you pay. But then Cora...and I just couldn't. I couldn't let you die, no matter the cost to me. For the first time in three hundred years, I thought about something other than my vengeance and that is solely because of you.”

Tears welled up in Emma's eyes, unbidden. On some level, she had known this. But Killian had never said it out loud, not in so many words. To have that kind of power, to move a man like Killian Jones like that over so short a time, it was staggering. “You told me once that I was the only thing staying your hand when it came to Gold,” she whispered. “I guess I never realized just how true that was.”

“It's just as true now, as it was then,” he said quietly. “I still hate him, love. I probably always will. But I made my choice. You're more important to me than revenge.” He sighed. “I _am_ sorry, Emma. But every instinct is telling me that Rumplestiltskin is up to something; something very bad. And I guess, seeing my hand on display like that...I lost my temper.”

Emma pulled him into a hug. Killian held her tightly, murmuring more quiet apologies into her hair. She understood now where his outburst had come from, even if she didn't approve of his methods. If Killian thought that something was wrong, then she believed him. But hell if she knew what to do about it.

 

 

It was a restless, sleepless night. As exhausted as Killian was, every time he fell asleep he would have nightmares. The knowledge that Rumplestiltskin had kept his hand and it sat in the imp's shop ate away at him. Worse, was the pixie magic he'd felt at the shop. Unlike Emma, Killian _knew_ that it was a recent acquisition. He'd have know if it was there the first time he'd confronted the Crocodile in his shop. Pixie magic left its mark on anyone who came into contact with it and Killian Jones had more intimate knowledge than most. So where had it come from? And what did Rumplestiltskin want with it?

Those questions were forced to take a back seat, since the Crocodile's love, Belle, was missing. There was a part of him that was glad to see the Crocodile in such distress. If – even for a moment – Rumplestiltskin could feel what Killian had felt for three hundred years, then he was glad of it. It wasn't a nice impulse, but – a few special circumstances aside – Killian wasn't a very nice man. There was too much water under the bridge, too much pain and bitterness in his past for him ever be a wholly good person, despite what Emma believed. He had accepted that long ago. But he would keep his satisfaction of the Crocodile's plight to himself; Emma had enough problems.

Just after sunrise, nearly the whole town met at the blackened remains of the library. The fire was out; the ruins were pretty charred. Nearly the entire upper floor was gone; only a skeleton remained. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian observed Rumplestiltskin looking forlornly at what was left. He tried to muster some empathy, trying to think about how he felt when Emma was missing, but none came. He just couldn't help but believe that the imp deserved to know what it felt like to not know where the woman he loved was or if she were safe. Rumplestiltskin had caused so much pain and misery to so many people; there was a perverse kind of justice to the present proceedings.

“OK, so here's the plan,” Emma was saying. “Since we've already checked in town, we'll start on the outskirts and work our way to the town line. For god's sake, be careful as you approach the line; we don't want any accidents. Stick to groups of four – five at the most. And fan out. There's only so much land; she can't have gotten far.”

“What about the old cabin?” Snow asked. “Has anyone looked there? If she got caught in the storm, it's a good place to wait it out.” Killian didn't miss the look between Snow and her prince.

“Good idea,” Emma said. “Why don't you and David head in that direction.”

“Can I come too?” Henry asked.

Emma looked indecisively at her son. Killian was well aware of the boy's desire to be in the thick of the action; Henry hated being left behind. “Belle lets me bring snacks to the library; she's nice,” Henry said, his face pleading. Seeing Henry's affection for the missing girl, Killian felt a twinge of guilt for that time he'd nearly killed her. Even though it had been nothing personal at the time.

“Alright,” Emma relented. “But stay close to Mary Margaret and David, okay?”

Quickly, the throng started to break up into smaller groups. Soon, the only ones left at the library were Emma, Killian, Regina and Rumplestiltskin.

“Are you just going to stand there, Miss Swan?” Rumplestiltskin said accusingly. Killian glared at the imp, but stayed back. After the previous evening, he couldn't afford to lose his temper again. He would only step in if Emma absolutely needed him.

Emma looked hard at Rumplestiltskin. “No, Gold. I thought the four of us could look through the remains of the library, see if we could find a clue about where Belle went.”

“Do you really think there is such a clue?” Regina said, clearly skeptical. Truthfully, Killian was skeptical as well, and told Emma so when she'd suggested it before they left the apartment.

“We won't know until we look, now will we?” Emma shot back. “If the magically inclined people want to help Killian and I search, you're welcome to. If not, then get out of my way.”

Killian suppressed a smile at “magically inclined people.” Emma's magic was something that only a select few knew about; obviously Regina and the Crocodile were not among them. Last night, when Emma pointed out that he could have inadvertently forced her to expose that knowledge to the imp, Killian had been horrified, but had been too caught up in his anger to tell her so. In trying to figure out Rumplestiltskin's game, he had nearly given the imp more reason to hate Emma. And that was unacceptable; so he apologized, determined not to let his temper get the better of him again. Not where Emma's safety was concerned.

While Regina seemed to accept this reasoning, the Crocodile did not. “I will search for Belle in my _own_ way, if it's all the same to you, Miss Swan,” he said and stalked off as well as he could.

“A little gratitude never hurt anyone,” Emma muttered, as she entered the charred library.

“Rumplestiltskin is a very proud man, Miss Swan,” Regina observed. “He hates asking anyone for help, especially someone like you.”

“Well, he'll just have to suck it up and deal.”

“Indeed.”

Killian followed the ladies into the library; he wasn't quite sure what Emma expected to find. There wasn't much left. What books hadn't been completely destroyed, were crispy and burnt. The metal shelves had been partially melted and twisted in the heat of the flames. They searched high and low, digging through the debris. Regina even lifted some of the heavier things with magic, but it was no use. There didn't appear to be any sign that Belle had been there, nor a clue to where she had gone.

Killian was leaning against the far wall, wiping his brow with his handkerchief, when he felt something shift behind his back and the wall started to crumble. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, as he fell. Killian instinctively held out his hand to break his fall; he landed awkwardly on his wrist and backside. It hurt like a son of a bitch – especially his wrist – but Killian gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

“Killian!” Emma yelled. “Where are you?”

“Down here,” he called back, even though he wasn't quite sure where “here” was. Cautiously he stood, testing his weight on the slightly blackened floor. When it held, Killian looked around the strange box type contraption he found himself in.

“Oh my god,” Emma said when she found him. “Are you alright?” she asked, steeping heedlessly into the box. She looked him over, brushing some dust and soot out of his dark hair.

“I'm fine,” he replied. “Took a bit of a tumble, but no harm done.” He winced as he reached up to get Emma to stop fussing. His wrist still hurt like hell. Emma raised her eyebrows in question and Killian just shook his head warningly. Regina was right there, now was not the time for this particular discussion.

“I forgot this was here,” Regina said.

“Yeah, well, you didn't have to climb out of it, Regina,” Emma said. Killian looked at her questioningly, but Emma shook her head. “Did Belle know it was here? That's the question.”

“I rather think she did,” the Queen deadpanned. “Look.”

Both Emma and Killian looked at where Regina was pointing. There was a large piece of parchment underneath Killian's feet. He bent over to retrieve it. The edges were a bit charred and there were a few water stains, but it was most definitely a map.

“The elevator must have protected it from the fire,” Emma said.

“The what?” Killian asked. Regina rolled her eyes.

“Elevator,” Emma explained. “It goes up and down between floors of a building usually.”

“Usually?”

“Well, this one mostly goes down. I'll tell you the story later.” Emma looked thoughtful. “Hey, you don't think Belle went down there, do you?”

“I think that is an excellent hypothesis, Miss Swan.”

“But that doesn't explain why Gold couldn't find her with magic. If she's just down in the caves...oh my god.”

“The caves go past the town line,” Regina finished. “If Belle wandered down there without that,” she continued, pointing at the map, “then she probably got lost and now she can't remember anything.”

“Gold's going to freak.”

The thought of Gold's love being unable to remember him? Killian was practically giddy at the thought. But he quickly sobered. If Belle were hurt, that would only make the Crocodile even more on edge, liable to lash out at anyone. And he had Emma to think about now. And Henry. Killian examined the map again.

“I think I can follow this,” he said. “We should be able to find her, without getting lost ourselves.”

“If she's down there.” Emma pulled out her phone, checking in to see if anyone had found Belle in the forest. After each call, her frown lines deepened. “No one's seen her so far. Regina, would you mind staying here in case someone does? Killian and I can check the caves.”

Regina reached into her pocket, pulling out a small stone. “Here, take this. It's a witchlight. It should light your way.”

Emma accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.” She turned back to Killian. “Ready?”

“Always, love.”

Going down in the elevator was an odd sensation; it felt like falling but...not. Killian could hear the creak of the gears above them and tried not to be too worried about it. They would need this godsforsaken elevator contraption to return. When they got to the bottom, they stepped out into the cave. It was dark, but a few tiny shafts of light seeped though from the surface. Emma looked at him questioningly; Killian nodded. After they went about fifty feet from the elevator, Emma stopped.

“Here, give me your wrist.”

Killian held out his wrist silently; a brief flash of light later, it was fine, the pain gone.

“Better?”

“Aye.” Light sparkled off something nearby. “What's that?” he asked, pointing.

Emma followed his finger. “That? Is my mother's glass coffin.”

“ _What?”_

“Remember when we watched _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_?”

“Aye, Leroy kept complaining through the whole thing. So the glass coffin bit was accurate?”

Emma shrugged. “More or less, from what Mary Margaret's told me. The sleeping curse was not as pleasant in real life though.”

“But how did it get here?”

“No idea. It was here the last time I was down here though.”

“You said there was a story behind that, darling. Care to share?”

“I'll explain as we go.”

With that, Killian got out the map once more and examined it. Satisfied, he lead them down a tunnel off to his right. Once they were away from the main cavern, the light faded. Emma pulled out the gifted witchlight; it emanated a soft glow from the palm of her hand, just enough to light to walk by.

“Okay, story. The short version is that I had to come down here to kill a dragon. Maleficent to be exact.”

“Sorry, did you say _dragon?_ ”

“Yep,” she replied, matter of factly. “You want the long version, don't you?”

“It's only fair, love. I'd love to hear all about how you bested a dragon.”

As they walked, Emma told the story. How Henry had eaten the poisoned turnover meant for her. How Rumplestiltskin had sent her on what turned out to be a fool's errand, to retrieve a potion that her own father had planted years before. How that potion was made from her parents' hair and brought magic to Storybrooke. And finally, how True Love's kiss brought Henry back from the dead.

When she finished, Killian grabbed her free hand, lacing their fingers together. “Looks like I'm not the only one with tales of adventure, love.”

Emma looked at him askance. “More nightmare, less adventure. Trust me, it was less glamorous than it sounds. If Henry had died...”

“But he didn't. You saved him.”

“Yeah _and_ broke the curse. For all the good it's done.”

“Henry is alive and well, you have your parents. I'd say it's done a world of good.”

“And you,” Emma cut in. “If I hadn't broken the curse, you'd still be stuck in the Enchanted Forest.”

“See? Fate.” He squeezed her fingers.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

They came to a fork; Killian let go of her and looked at the map again. The left fork appeared to be the one that lead away from town. And if Belle was truly past the influence of magic, then that's was where they needed to start looking. Killian lead them through the maze of tunnels, checking the map every so often. In some places they were nearly too narrow for a man to get through. Height was occasionally an issue as well. Killian wasn't claustrophobic, but the narrow tunnels did make him appreciate the open air. Who in their right mind would wander down into such a place?

The corridor they were moving down opened into a slightly bigger space. Killian felt a shiver down his spine and it wasn't from cold. “Did you feel that?” Emma asked.

“Aye.”

“I think we're past the town line.”

Killian didn't ask how she knew that as it was his suspicion as well. Things like that had happened to them since Emma saved his heart in Wonderland. It wasn't as strong for him since he wasn't magical himself, more like an echo. If Emma felt it, he felt it. That's why he'd been so worried and angry in the Crocodile's shop. He'd felt the pixie magic and Emma hadn't, something that hadn't happened before. There was still so much that they didn't know about their connection; it worried him sometimes. Emma never said anything, but Killian knew she was worried about her powers. But he wouldn't let anything happen to her; he could be her anchor.

“Belle?” Emma called. The sound echoed in the small space, but no one answered. “Maybe she's not even here.”

Just then Killian heard a scrabbling sound off to the left. “There, love.”

Emma lead the way, holding the witchlight high. The soft glow of the stone got brighter; Killian could see where the tunnel continued. Cautiously, Emma approached the narrow crack in the wall of the small cave. “Belle?” she asked again.

“Go away!”

“Belle? It's me, it's Emma. The Sheriff? We're not going to hurt you, I promise.”

More scrabbling sounds. “Who's Belle? Why do you keep calling me that? Just...just go away!” Poor girl was absolutely terrified.

“Okay, I'm backing up,” Emma said, soothingly. “But you have to come out, Belle. It's not safe down here. Everyone's worried about you.”

Long seconds passed. Finally, Killian saw Belle's dark head. “Who...who are you?”

“You don't remember, do you?” Emma asked.

“Sorry, no. Should I?”

“I'm Emma,” Emma explained patiently. “This is Killian. Gold...someone who cares about you sent us to find you. You got lost.”

“I did?”

“You always live in a cave, love?” Killian asked, with more sarcasm than he intended.

“ _Killian!”_ Emma hissed.

Belle ducked back into the crack in the wall. “Good job, _Captain_ ,” Emma said, annoyed. “Stop helping.” She turned back to where Belle was hidden. “Don't mind him. Sometimes he doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.”

After a bit more coaxing, Emma managed to get Belle to come out. She wrapped her arm around the smaller woman and turned to Killian. “Now how the hell do we get out of here?”

Killian was about to answer her when a blood curdling scream echoed in the cave. _“What is that?”_ Belle screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Killian. At the same time, the terrified girl struggled to get out of Emma's grip. It took Killian a second to realize what had Belle in such a state: his hook. She'd seen his hook. He locked eyes with Emma, who nodded. Trying not to take offense, Killian shoved his left arm into his jacket pocket.

“Belle, Belle. It's gone now. It was nothing. See?” Emma said, pointing at Killian. “There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Belle was still shaking. “He had a _hook_ ,” she said plaintively. “I _saw_ it.”

“Don't know what you're talking about, love. Nothing in this pocket except my very own flesh and blood.”

Belle continued to look at him skeptically. But gradually, she calmed down. Wordlessly, Emma and Killian agreed that it would be best to keep his hook out of sight until they reached the surface. If Belle freaked out again, she could wander even deeper into the caves. It would make the trip back awkward – Killian would need to do everything one handed – but what choice did they have? Cursing the Crocodile once again, Killian took out the map and plotted their way back. He lead them through the maze of caves and tunnels, Emma and Belle following closely. Emma held the witchlight in her hand as one would hold a flashlight, as not to freak Belle out further. It wasn't the best, but they made it work. Finally, they reached the elevator.

When the trio emerged from the elevator, Regina was waiting for them. Emma shook her head at the Queen's silent question. “We need to get her to the hospital,” Emma said.

“I'll take her,” Regina said. “You should break the news to Gold, Miss Swan.”

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” She turned to Belle. “Regina's going to take you to the hospital, okay? Make sure you're alright and everything.”

Belle continued to look absently at the blackened library. “Do I know this place?” she asked.

Emma smiled sympathetically. “This is where you work. You live – well, used to live – upstairs.”

“I don't remember.”

“Do you know your name?”

“You keep calling me Belle, but I don't know who that is. It's not me. I,” Belle frowned. “I don't know know who I am.”

“It's okay,” Emma said. “We'll help you. Just go with Regina. She'll get you fixed up at the hospital. I'll come by to visit you soon, okay?”

Belle nodded. Once she and Regina were gone, Emma slumped. “That could have been worse.”

“Really, love? How, pray tell.”

“Well, she could have seen magic,” Emma pointed out. “We're lucky it was just your hook.”

“Speaking of magic, do you think it can bring her memories back?”

“I doubt it, at least not any magic I've seen. Poor Sneezy still can't remember anything. I don't even know if we should try magic; you saw how much your hook freaked her out.”

“That won't stop Rumplestiltskin.”

“Oh god,” Emma cried, kneading her temples with her fingertips. “He's going to _flip_.”

“You're not going over there alone.”

Emma glared at him. “I have to, Killian. After last night, you shouldn't be anywhere _near_ that shop. I can handle Gold. I'm a big girl.”

“I don't like it. He's hiding something, Emma. He finds out about Belle, he likely to lash out at you as much as look at you.”

“I think he'll be too worried about Belle to bother with me,” Emma said, reassuringly. She cupped his cheek with her hand, gently stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. “I will be fine, I promise. You can't protect me from everything.”

“I can try.”

Emma smiled. “This protection thing's a two way street, remember? I will feel better if you stay as far away from him as possible. Gold's got no quarrel with me, at the moment. At least not one that trumps Belle. Please do this for me?”

Killian turned his head, kissing her palm. “For you, love? Anything.”

Emma leaned in and brushed his lips with her own. “Thank you. I'll send Henry over to the _Jolly Roger_ when everyone gets back. He can help you clean up. I'll be along as soon as I can, okay?”

“Don't take too long, love.”

He hated watching her leave, but he knew Emma was right. His presence would only make things worse. But he had to trust that Emma could handle herself. It was unlikely Rumplestiltskin would attack her; not even the imp would be so unreasonable as to blame Emma for Belle's predicament. The dark corner of his soul wished he could be there to see the look on the Crocodile's face, but he pushed it aside. If he did that, Rumplestiltskin _would_ attack. That's why he was off to the _Jolly Roger_ and Emma was walking into the lion's den alone.  


	5. Chapter 4

“That's it, lad. A little more.”

Henry yanked on the rope as hard as he could, straining slightly under its weight. They were finally finished replacing all the remaining rigging. The deck of the _Jolly Roger_ had taken a beating during the freak storm, but with Henry's help, nearly everything was back as it should be. Henry tied off the last rope and beamed at Killian.

“How's that?” he asked.

Killian looked up. “I'd say that's just about perfect.”

Henry looked around the deck. “Guess it's a good thing I spent the weekend with my mom, huh?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, but I sure could have used you, Henry. Had to most of it myself.”

“Were you scared?”

Killian knelt down in front of the boy. “Been through many a storm, Henry. Can't say I've ever experienced one quite like that. So between you and me? Aye, I was. A bit.”

“Because of Mom?”

Killian was reminded once again just how damn perceptive Henry was. “Aye. Best not to tell her, yeah? Wouldn't want to sully my good name.”

Henry grinned. “Your secret's safe with me, Captain.”

“What secret?” came a voice from behind them. It was Emma.

Killian straightened. “Nothing, love.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. “I brought dinner,” she said.

“Pizza!” Henry exclaimed.

“Got it in one, kid.” She handed Henry the box. “Save some for us!”she called as Henry dug into the food.

Killian wrapped her in his arms, kissing her temple. He was so relieved to have her back and in one piece. He'd done a fair job of not worrying about her in front of Henry, but he knew that he wouldn't be entirely at ease until she was with him again. “Someone's happy to see me,” she chuckled.

“I'm always happy to see you, love.”

“I told you I was going to be fine.”

“Given our track record, can you blame me?”

Emma pulled away, her face suddenly serious. “This is going to sound stupid, but I'm still getting used to people worrying about me, of having someone to return to. But I'm thankful that you care so much, Killian. So even though I may complain about it occasionally, don't stop, okay?”

“As you wish, princess.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Come on, let's eat. I'll fill you guys in on Belle.”

They joined Henry on the floor of the deck, each getting a slice of the pizza Emma brought. Over the course of the last few months, it had become one of Killian's favorite dishes.

“How is Belle?” Henry asked. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Emma looked at him sadly. “I'm not sure, kid. Dr. Whale checked her out and aside from the memory loss, she appears to be fine. But since there's magic flying around this town, we decided it was best to keep her in the hospital for a while.”

“We?”

“Gold's not happy about it, as you can imagine. He was pretty devastated when I told him.”

“He didn't hurt you, did he?” Killian asked, even though Emma had just assured him she was fine.

Emma shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He seems to think it was just an accident. When I asked him if Belle had any reason to be in the caves, he got kinda evasive though.”

“Do you think Belle was helping him with whatever nefarious plan he's got cooking up?”

“Gold is a lot of things, but he always kept Belle far away from that stuff. She told me so. If Gold is up to something, then he'd never use Belle. That woman is the one good thing in his life that he hasn't managed to completely drive away or ruin. No way would he risk her.”

Killian looked thoughtfully at Emma. “You know I'd never thought I'd say this, but I understand what that's like.”

“Belle said almost the exact same thing to me when I arrested Smee at the library.”

“The pirate and the princess,” Henry said excitedly, looking back and forth between the pair of them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Emma said. “Let's not get carried away here, Henry. This is so not fairytale material.”

Henry scoffed. “A lost princess finds her True Love while on an adventure to get a magic compass? But she's afraid to trust the pirate, so she betrays him. Then the pirate saves her life from the evil witch? Mom, that's nothing but a fairytale.”

“Lad's got a point, love.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you think my book could help Belle?” Henry asked. “Maybe jog her memories. Like Grandma did with Gramps.”

“I don't know, Henry. Maybe. At the very least, it could help her get used to the idea of magic before Gold goes all Merlin on her.”

“You mean he hasn't yet?”

“I managed to talk him out of it,” Emma explained. “At least for now. But who knows how long that will last.”

“Can I visit her after school tomorrow?” Henry asked.

“Sure.”

“I thought we were going over those star charts tomorrow night,” Killian pointed out. The darkened spots in the sky had been lingering at the back of his mind since he'd shown Emma the Neverland star. It was an investigation that coincided nicely with something he and Henry did away.

“Well, you still can,” Emma replied. “Henry's not going to be at the hospital _that_ long, right?”

“I'll be home by dinner,” the boy promised.

“Good. Now if it's all the same to you two, I want to go home. It's been a hell of a day.”

It took Killian longer than normal to fall asleep that night. Emma was exhausted and fell asleep shortly after her blonde head settled on his chest. Killian, however, couldn't shake the bad feeling that had settled in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. The thought of something happening to Emma – or to Henry – was enough to drive him to madness. He'd barely survived Milah's death – and that by embracing the pain, the hate – he could not do it a second time. The world would tremble at the wrath of Killian Jones should some mishap befall his Swan.

He slept in fits and starts, not dreaming. No nightmares, thank the gods. Just that horrible sinking feeling. The sun began to peak through the curtains when he heard Emma whimper softly in her sleep. He looked down at her, absently stroking her hair. Then just like the only other time he'd seen it, Emma started thrashing in the throes of a nightmare.

“Graham!”

_Who the bloody hell is Graham?_ Killian thought, as he shook her awake. He tried – and failed – to squash the flash of jealousy. “Emma, love. Wake up.”

Emma's eyes flew open, her breathing heavy. She squinted in the still low light, scrubbing her hand over her face. “Oh god.”

Tentatively – still smarting from the name that wasn't his – Killian touched her shoulder. “Emma?”

She turned her head toward him. “Hey.”

“Um, not to sound insensitive, love, but who's Graham?”

Emma blushed and covered her eyes with her hand. “You heard that?”

“Aye.”

She sat up, leaning her arms on her knees. Killian followed suit next to her. “It was so weird,” Emma said. She looked over at him. “Graham was...well, he was the sheriff before me. He died.”

“Go on,” Killian said, harder than he should have. He knew better than anyone just how terrifying nightmares could be, and yet he was letting his bruised ego do the talking. Emma made no comment on his tone, however.

“When I first got to Storybrooke, he was sleeping with Regina. I caught him coming out of her house once, shortly after he'd made me his deputy. But then...well, we started to get closer. He was kind; he brought me bear claws for breakfast,” she continued, smiling fondly at the memory. She looked back down at the sheet when she caught a look at Killian's face. “Anyway, he realized that he didn't actually feel anything for Regina. He said that he had no heart; I thought he was being metaphorical.”

“But he wasn't,” Killian said.

“No. It turns out Regina had actually taken his heart before the curse. When Graham started to remember, she killed him. At the time I didn't know what had happened, he just dropped dead in my arms. The coroner said it was a heart attack, but Henry said it was Regina. I didn't want to believe it then, but I asked Regina after what happened to you on the toll bridge and she told me.”

Finding out that this Graham had died as Milah had died? Killian felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. And he'd had the gall to be _jealous_. “I'm so sorry, love,” he said, pulling Emma to him.

“I know I should have told you sooner; I never meant it to be this big secret or anything. It was never the right time, I guess.”

“You don't have to apologize, Emma.”

“Don't think I didn't hear that jealous tone in your voice, Captain,” she shot back, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Relieved that she wasn't angry, he smirked. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I never loved him, you know. I thought that maybe, one day, I could have. We barely knew each other. But even if I did, it would be a pale shadow compared to how I love you. But I do miss him sometimes.”

“I would liked to have met him.”

“He was the Huntsman, before. He's one of the reasons I even exist.” When Killian quirked an eyebrow, she continued. “Regina ordered him to kill Mary Margaret...Snow. He refused, so Regina took his heart instead.”

“Now I really do wish I could have met him.”

Emma smiled. “You remind me of him...a little. You both have the scruffy foreign accent thing going on...”

“The _what?_ ”

“I'm going to have to watch you like a hawk, when we eventually get to take that vacation. The women of this world will be following you around like lost puppies. I'll have to beat them off with sticks,” she teased.

“Because of my accent?”

“Oh yeah. Women are suckers for an accent. You'll see.”

“So that's why you love me?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yep, it's just the voice. Easily replaceable.”

“Well, in that case...” Killian said, starting to get out of the bed.

“Oh no, you don't,” Emma cried, dragging him back by the shoulders. They fell in a heap on the bed, their laughter ringing out in the otherwise silent room. The light was getting stronger as the sun came up. Killian rolled them over so that he lay on top her, bracing his weight on his forearms so that he didn't crush her. Emma's blue green eyes shone up at him, a smile on her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, knowing that those words were never enough to describe exactly what it was he felt for her.

“And I wasn't joking about that beating women off with sticks thing. Anyone so much as looks at you in a way I don't like, they're getting an earful. At the very least, the stinkeye. You're _mine_.”

Killian grinned. “I do so love this side of you, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I'll bet you do.”

“I find it rather fetching.”

“You would.”

“Well, naturally. Pirate, darling.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her. Emma's hands slid up his back and her fingers threaded through his hair as she deepened the kiss. Killian moaned softly as their tongues slid together in a dance they knew well. Killian ran his good hand slowly down Emma's torso and pushed her shirt up; she gasped as his slightly cool fingertips brushed the warm skin of her abdomen.

“Killian...”

Killian nipped at her earlobe. “Hush, love,” he growled. He was all too aware of Henry, hopefully still asleep upstairs. They didn't have much time and Killian wanted to love her to make up for his attitude when she'd woken. He kissed her again ad she didn't protest. Emma ran her hands along his bare shoulders and down his back, leaving a fiery trail in her wake. As Killian left her mouth and lavished her neck with kisses, Emma thrust her hips into his urgently. Killian groaned.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

Quickly, Killian straightened and shucked off his pants. He'd never been one to wear anything to bed before, but with Henry in the house, Emma had left him little choice. As he kicked the pants aside, Emma wriggled out of her own clothing. Even in the early morning, she was beautiful. Without preamble, Emma dragged him back down to her, her eyes reflecting his own need. She gripped his biceps tightly as he thrust forward, taking her with an urgency he hadn't felt in a while. Emma stifled her moan by claiming his mouth with hers. He set a relentless pace, no time or inclination to be gentle. Emma made no complaint, matching him thrust for thrust. Sooner than either of them thought possible, Emma's mouth opened in a silent scream as she reached her peak. Killian muffled his own shout by burying his face in Emma's neck as he joined her seconds later.

Killian buried his nose deeper into her hair as his breathing evened out, inhaling her scent. Emma hummed in contentment, reaching up to stroke his hair. “We should get up,” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“But I don't want to.”

“Nor do I.” He'd keep her in their bed forever if he could.

But life had other plans. Killian heard Henry's footsteps on the stairs. Emma heard it as well and she reluctantly pushed him off her and sat up. She dressed quickly and threw on her robe. “I'm going to start breakfast.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Take your time.”

“The lad can get a bowl of cereal by himself, love,” Killian protested.

“Are you implying I can't cook, Captain?”

“It's not an implication if it's true.”

Emma swatted at his arm. “Just for that, I'm going to...well, I'm not sure yet. But I'm sure it will taste vile.”

Killian grinned. “Go. I'll be along shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Killian joined Emma and Henry in the kitchen. As Killian accepted his mug of tea from Emma, Henry grinned. “You're lucky,” the boy said. “She was going to put something in it, but I stopped her. What did you do?”

“Do? What makes you think _I_ did something?”

“Ruby says it's always the boy's fault,” Henry shrugged.

Emma spluttered into her coffee. “Ruby said _what_?”

“I think you've been spending far too much time with the she wolf, Henry,” Killian countered.

“As long as she keeps giving him free sundaes at Granny's, I don't see that stopping any time soon, Killian,” Emma observed.

Henry blushed. “You know about that?”

“I'm the Sheriff, kid. It's my job,” Emma said mysteriously. “You still going to the hospital this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I've got my book packed.”

“I want you to go there straight after school, okay, kid?”

“The bus stops near there,” Henry informed her. “Piece of cake.”

“Call when you're done, one of us will come get you.”

“Okay.” Henry paused, munching on his cereal thoughtfully. “Do you think it will work?”

“It can't hurt. And you're probably the most normal person in this town, I doubt Belle will be afraid of you.” Emma downed the last of her coffee. “Give me ten minutes and we'll head out.”

“And what am I doing today, love?” Killian asked.

Emma looked at him, surprised. “You're coming to the station with me, silly. Or do you not want to be my deputy anymore?”

“I...” he began, then shut his mouth. For once, he was speechless. At the time, he'd assumed Emma's offer was purely in jest, something to annoy the Crocodile. “You're serious,” he said finally.

A flash of worry flickered in Emma's eyes. “Of course I was serious. But if you don't want to...”

Killian looked at her incredulous. “Do you really think I'm going to turn down the chance to spend more time with you?”

Emma smiled, relieved. “Ten minutes.”

 

After they dropped Henry off at the bus stop, Emma and Killian headed for the station. Now that it was actually happening, Emma was having second thoughts about making Killian a deputy. It wasn't that she thought he couldn't or that she didn't want to spend time with him. Of course she did. But he was a pirate captain, used to being in charge – used to taking orders, not receiving them. Plus, in all honesty, he was a _bit_ of a loose canon at the best of times. And she didn't want him to do it just to make her happy. As much as she wanted to spend time with him, Emma wanted Killian to do something that made him happy. He deserved to have something in his life that didn't revolve solely around her.

“So what does Storybrooke's sheriff do all day?” Killian asked, sitting across from her.

Emma gave him a half smile. “Not much most days, honestly. Unless there's some crisis, I'm usually here waiting for the phone to ring. I got caught up on the backlog of paperwork ages ago.”

“Sounds dreadfully dull.”

“Why do you think I asked you to be my deputy?”

“You mean it wasn't for my devilishly good looks?”

Emma chuckled. “Those are just a perk.”

“I see your game, Swan.”

Emma quirked a brow. He hadn't called her that in a while. “Are you sure this what you really want, Killian?” she asked, her face serious.

“Is it what _you_ want?”

“That's not an answer.”

“Did you just ask me to annoy the Crocodile? Because that's what I thought at the time, but now you seem to be hot and cold about it. Why, love?”

“I just don't want you do things that make _me_ happy. I want you to have a life outside of me. Do your own thing. Whatever that is. Unless it involves stealing things, because then we need to have a talk about that.”

Killian leaned forward in his chair. “Emma, I have no life without you. More importantly, I don't want one. I was a pirate long before I met Milah, but I can't say I was truly _alive_. Not in the way I was with her. And then she was gone and I was lost. In a dark damned pit, surviving for one thing: vengeance. And then I met you. You made me feels things I thought long dead. Brought me back to life, you did. So as long as I have you, Henry and my ship, I am happy.”

“You don't miss being a pirate? Being captain of your ship?”

“I still am captain of my ship,” he pointed out.

Emma rolled her eyes. He was being deliberately obtuse. “You know what I mean. I've seen you on that ship. It's where you belong. You've never happier than when we're at sea; I can see it in your eyes. I don't want you to feel tied here – to Storybrooke – just because of me.”

“Are you worried that I'll leave you because you think you're not enough?”

Emma's widened. That wasn't what she meant. Was it? She thought she'd been talking about Killian having an occupation, something to keep him busy. So why did she have this horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach?

Killian got up and came around the desk. He stopped in front of her, kneeling at her feet. “Emma, love, I belong wherever you are. Whether that's here or on the _Jolly Roger_ or some castle in the our land. I love the sea, I won't lie. But I will never _ever_ love it more than I love you. Do you understand me?”

Emma stared into his too blue eyes; she could see his love for her there, shining like a beacon. Why – after everything – did a tiny part of her keep trying to push him away? Was she really still trying to protect herself on some unconscious level? Was she too scarred to ever fully accept that he loved her – loved her so much that he would willingly give up such a fundamental part of himself? It felt too good to be true.

“One day, you're going to get tired of making these dramatic romantic speeches,” Emma said.

“I will make them however often I have to if it will make your fears and doubt go away.”

“I don't doubt that you love me, Killian. You're not the problem. It's a horrible cliché in this world, but it really is me. Until I came here, I had all but convinced myself that I was unlovable. That there was something fundamentally wrong with me. And I thought I was okay with that. But then Henry shows up. And my parents. And you. I just had no idea what to do about you. So I pushed you away, as hard as I could. But you wouldn't give up. Then Gold had your heart,” Emma placed her hand over his heart. “And I knew that I couldn't lose you. I need you, Killian. So much that it scares me.”

“I need you too, Emma. I shudder to think of who I would be without you.”

“Let's never find out, okay?”

“Excellent plan, darling.”

Emma laughed mirthlessly. “I don't know why these pockets of doubt keep cropping up. I wish they would stop. I just want to be happy, for once.”

“Not to get philosophical, but I think time is the only cure. You've had a lot change in a fairly short span of time, love. No one should expect you to be absolutely perfectly content.”

“Not even you?” she teased.

“I am clearly the exception,” he said.

“Maybe that's what I'm really afraid of,” Emma mused.

“What's that?”

“That somehow this will get taken away from us. Look at my parents. They were only together for a little while before they got separated by the curse. Then the curse got broken and they got separated _again_. What if that happens to us?”

“I will never let that happen. Cora tried that and she failed. We stopped her, Emma. And we'll stop anybody else who comes along. I promise you.” He stood up and kissed the crown of her head. “Now why don't you show me the ropes of this sheriffing lark.”

Emma grinned at him and got up to commence Sheriffing 101.

 

"That's cheating!” Emma cried.

“It's only cheating if you can prove it. Can you, Sheriff?” Killian smirked.

“I hate you,” Emma said, disgusted. Showing Killian around the station and such had only taken a little while. For a town as small at Storybrooke, there were wasn't much law enforcing that needed done. Normally, Emma spent her down time playing games on the internet, reading or doing the _New York Times_ crossword puzzle. But Killian had convinced her to play cards. They spent most of the afternoon comparing card games from their respective worlds, many of which were surprisingly similar. But this one was from the Enchanted Forest and followed no discernible rules that she could follow.

“You know you love me.”

“How can you play a game with no rules? It makes no sense,” Emma huffed.

“It makes perfect sense, love. You're just frustrated because I keep winning.”

“Because you're _cheating_.”

“Well, I am a pirate. I think a bit of cheating's to be expected, don't you?”

“You're my deputy, you shouldn't cheat.”

“Didn't you used to be a thief? I imagine that involved a fair bit of _cheating_.”

Emma actually laughed. “This town is so screwed. It's got a former thief and a pirate enforcing the law.”

“I think that just makes things more entertaining.”

“David won't think so.”

“I don't know about that. Your father's definitely more of the charge first, ask questions later type, I think.”

Emma smirked. “You and he definitely have that in common,” Emma observed. “Why do you think Mary Margaret and I have to keep such a close eye on you?”

“Because we've got a cadre of beauties following us everywhere? We are such dashing, handsome fellows.”

“Oh, really?” Emma said as she got up and came around to his side of the desk. “And where is this cadre now? And be careful how you answer, Captain. I am armed, you know.”

Killian swallowed as Emma straddled the metal chair and settled in his lap. Emma relished the few times she managed to fluster him; she smirked. “Well?”

“There's only one woman I want following me around, love.”

“Good answer,” she said, as she leaned in to kiss him. Emma felt his arms go around her waist as their lips connected, crushing her against his chest. As always when they were this close, Emma's head spun with the fervency of what he made her feel. It was like they couldn't get close enough to each other. From that very first kiss, there was a part of her that constantly burned for him. It would rise and fall with their moods and nearness, but it was always there in the background just waiting to flair up again, brighter than ever. Emma had never felt anything like it and never wanted it to end. Just the thought of losing him and what they had terrified her.

Emma slid her hands up over his shoulders and into his hair. She loved the feel of the short dark strands between her fingers. She tugged on them gently; Killian growled against her lips. The sound sent a wave of desire straight through her and she moaned. Emma ground her hips against his as she delved her tongue into his mouth in a passionate kiss.

Killian lifted his left arm and dragged the curved edge of his hook along her spine causing her to shiver. Emma was about to yank the offending shirt off when she heard someone clear their throat. Loudly. _Shit_ , Emma thought. Emma closed her eyes, willing whoever it was to go away. _Please don't be David._

Certain she was red from head to toe, Emma climbed off Killian's lap, hiding her face in her blonde hair. When she opened her eyes, what she saw was almost as bad as what she had imagined. It was Mary Margaret, who was covering her eyes with her hand. “Um, hi,” Emma muttered.

“Is everybody decent?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma exchanged a glance with Killian, who appeared oddly amused by all this. But he slid his chair under desk all the same. “We are now,” Emma said.

“Oh good,” her mother replied, uncovering her face. Mary Margaret's cheeks were slightly pink with embarrassment. After the last time she and David had walked in unannounced, Mary Margaret had always made a point of knocking or calling first. But obviously, she hadn't expected to find Killian at the sheriff's station. Oops.

“Was there something you wanted?” Emma asked, trying to get through this without further embarrassment.

“What? Oh! Yeah,” Mary Margaret said, still distracted by Killian's presence. She sat her bag on the desk and continued, “But first...Emma, why is Killian here?”

Emma bit her lip. “Um, I made him my deputy? It's a long story, really.”

“Oh, okay,” her mother replied, giving Emma that “you will explain this to me later, young lady” look.

“I can go, if that makes you more comfortable, your highness,” Killian said, standing. Emma rolled her eyes. He always adopted that more courtly form of address with her mother. It was very odd and very sweet at the same time. But Killian had a lot of respect for Snow White, Emma knew that.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “No, Captain. Stay, please. It's probably important for you to hear this as well.”

“Mary Margaret, what's going on? Is it Belle? Gold?” Emma asked, suddenly concerned.

“No, it's not that. I saw Henry at school; he told me about visiting Belle. I told him that it was a wonderful idea. But one of Henry's classmates wasn't in school today. In fact, hasn't been there for over three days.”

“Who is it?”

“Grace.”

“Jefferson's daughter?”

“Yes. I went by Jefferson's just a little while ago and Emma, there's no one home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I didn't break and enter to make sure, but everything was dark and all the doors and windows were locked.”

“Okay,” Emma said. “We'll go check it out. But you know how Jefferson is, could be they both have the flu or something and don't want visitors.”

“Then why would the house be dark?”

“They _do_ call him the Mad Hatter for a reason, Mary Margaret.”

“Good point.”

“Can you do me a favor? Pick Henry up from the hospital? I told him one of us would get him, but if we drive out to Jefferson's...”

“Say no more,” Mary Margaret said. “David will be thrilled to have Henry over.”

“Thanks.”

It was later than Emma thought. It was dusk as she drove them out to Jefferson's house. It was just as she remembered it, despite not having been there since that night the Hatter had drugged her and tried to hold her and Mary Margaret hostage. As she pulled into the drive, Emma saw that her mother had been right; there was no sign of life in the house. But that didn't necessarily mean that no one was home. Jefferson was so odd at the best of times; even after getting his daughter back, the man still largely kept to himself. Emma climbed out of the cruiser and headed for the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Killian head around back. Emma knocked, waited, then rang the doorbell. No one answered. She peaked in the darkened window, but there was nothing unusual she could see in the fading light, aside from the house appearing empty. She rang the bell again though, just in case. This time the door swung open.

“Jefferson,” Emma started to say, but it wasn't Jefferson. Killian was on the other side.

“What did you do, break in?”

Killian laughed. “Honestly, Emma. It's like you forget that I am a pirate. I've gotten into places far more heavily guarded than this.”

“Like where?”

“Regina's castle, for one.”

Emma conceded the point. “Fine. Just tell me you didn't break down the door.”

“The door is perfectly intact.”

“Well, that's a plus. The last thing we need is Jefferson suing the town for damages or something.” Emma pushed past him and into the house. Strictly speaking, they didn't have probable cause, but fortunately fairy tale characters were not overly versed in the finer points of American law. And if something had happened to Jefferson and Grace, it was her job to check it out, right?

“Jefferson?” Emma called. No one answered.

“Appears that Snow was right, love. There's no one here.”

“Let's look anyway. It's not like they can leave town.”

Quietly, they searched the downstairs. It really did seem as if no one was home and hadn't been there for several days. Some of the things in the fridge had expired and dishes were piled in the sink. Didn't anyone in this town have dishwashers? As they searched, Emma turned on the lights. The interior looked the same as it had before, except for some toys and clothing that had to be Grace's. But there weren't signs of a struggle or anything.

Killian followed Emma upstairs. Emma flipped on the lights in the first bedroom. It was now Grace's, judging by the changed furnishings. But Emma knew this was the room where Mary Margaret had been tied up. It was also the first time Emma had realized that there was more to her friend than met the eye, judging by how tiny unassuming Mary Margaret had gone all Xena Warrior Princess on Jefferson. The broken window was now fixed as well. Emma looked in the closet; there was a section of empty hangers. There were definitely clothes missing.

Emma and Killian moved down the hall, searching the various rooms. There were more clothes missing from Jefferson's closet. Where could they have gone? If they left town, they'd just forget, right? Well, Grace would. Jefferson's curse was to remember everything. Emma thought it highly unlikely that Jefferson would willingly rob his daughter of her memories, not after all he went through to get her back. So where were they?

The last room was the hat room. It too looked exactly the same as when Emma had last been there. She remembered how crazed Jefferson had been to get her to make a hat that could take him home. Wait. The hat.

“Killian, have you seen Jefferson's hat anywhere?”

“I don't think so, love. Although, I'll admit to not really wanting to ever see that blasted thing again.”

“There are clothes missing. They went _somewhere_. But they can't leave Storybrooke for the outside; Grace was subject to the curse, she'd just forget. And they're definitely not here. They can't have gone home, right?”

Killian knitted his brows, thinking. “I doubt it; the Hatter knew about the ogres in our land. He knew it wasn't safe, especially for a child.”

“Yeah, Jefferson may not be all there, but he'd never put Grace in danger. So where are they?”

“Let's look for the hat again. Maybe we just missed it.”

They looked everywhere, but there definitely was no sign of the magic hat or its owner. Frustrated, Emma sat at the same table where Jefferson had forced her to make hat after hat all those months ago. It just didn't make any sense. A freak storm, the library fire, Belle's mysterious trip into the tunnels that robbed her of her memories, and now the Mad Hatter and his daughter were missing too. What the hell was going on?

Killian was looking through Jefferson's telescope into the night sky. He moved the scope around, getting more and more agitated. “No, no, no,” he muttered. “That _can't_ be right. It just can't.”

Emma rose and crossed the room to him. She put a hand on his shoulder. “What's wrong?”

Killian straightened, looking more grave than Emma had ever seen him. It scared her. “Unless I am very much mistaken, the Star of Neverland is _gone._ ”


	6. Chapter 5

“Gone,” Emma said, confused. “What you mean _gone?_ ”

Killian pushed the telescope at her. “See for yourself. I'm telling you that star is _not_ in the sky.”

Emma leaned down to look. It took her second to get her bearings, because all she saw was black. She moved the scope around, making sure she was looking in the right place. But that brilliant blue green star was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she looked at Killian. “Now don't snap at me, but are you _certain_ it's not just cloudy or something? Because, Killian, stars don't just _go missing_. I may not remember a lot from high school science, but I do know that. It's not like it could just get up and walk away.”

Killian ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stand up in all directions. It would have been endearing if he didn't look so damned _worried_. “Do you think I haven't thought of that? I've spent all my life at sea, love. I spent three hundred years in Neverland. I know where that star is at any given time, know it better than I know myself. And I am telling you it's not there.”

Emma reached out for him, taking his hand. “Hey, I believe you. But let's not freak out, alright? I'm sure there's an explanation.”

“There's something I haven't told you, darling.”

“I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“Remember the other night when I showed you the Neverland star?”

Emma's eyebrows shot up. “I knew it! You spaced and I asked you what was wrong and you tried to lie to me.”

Killian looked down at the ground, chagrined. “Aye, well, as I was looking for the star I saw something unusual.”

“What was it?” she asked, trying not to get upset that he had kept something important from her.

“Large patches of starless sky. And it wasn't just starless, love. It was _black_. In all my years, I've never seen anything like it.”

“That's what you wanted the star charts for, to make sure you weren't going crazy.”

“Aye.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked, harsher than she intended. And if he gave her some bullshit about protecting her, she was going to lose it.

But Killian didn't back down from her glare. “Because there was no point in worrying you, until I knew there was something to be _worried about!_ I meant to check the minute we got home, but we got distracted, in case you've forgotten.”

The storm, the library, Belle and now Jefferson. Killian was right; they'd been going practically nonstop since the day after he's showed her the Neverland star. Hell, they'd even had time for another one of her relationship freakouts. Snapping at him for not following up on something he _couldn't_ have was unfair.

“Okay, okay. I get it,” she said, her face softening. “Sorry.”

Killian half smiled. “It's alright, love. I fully intended to tell you the second there was something to be told. It just happened a little sooner than I planned, that's all.”

Emma chuckled. “We'll just add it to the thousand other things that have happened since the storm, right?” She paused, thinking. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, I was thinking we appropriate the Hatter's spy glass here and see if I'm right about those stars. It'll be dark enough now.”

“But what about Jefferson?”

“Emma, love, as much as you try, you simply _can't_ be everywhere doing everything. And we can't search for Jefferson and his little one in the dark. But we can do this.”

Emma looked at him apprehensively and nodded. There was nothing more they could do for Jefferson and Grace tonight. Since there didn't appear to have been a struggle, she wasn't even sure they were truly _missing_. They may have just gone camping or something; her gut told her that something more sinister had happened, but she had no proof. And without proof, there was little she could do at this point. But if Killian was right and stars were missing from the sky...then there was something very, very big going on. Something so far over her head that she couldn't even fathom it.

They drove back into town, stopping at Granny's for some takeout and the apartment to get the star charts. Emma called Mary Margaret and asked if Henry could stay the night. She didn't know how long they'd be on the _Jolly Roger_ and she wanted to make sure Henry had everything he needed. Her mother was delighted, but caught Emma's worried tone.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said quietly, “is everything alright?”

“You were right,” Emma said. “There was no sign of Jefferson or Grace. But there were some clothes missing.”

“You don't think anything happened to them, do you?”

“Honestly, I don't know. We can start searching tomorrow if that makes you feel better.”

“There's something else, isn't there?”

Emma's grip on the phone tightened. She desperately wanted to confide in her mother, but like Killian, didn't want to worry her until they knew what they were dealing with. “There is, but I can't tell you now. Tomorrow, okay?”

Emma could practically hear her mother's frown. “Alright, I trust you. We'll get Henry off to school, then meet you at the station at eight.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Mary Margaret.”

“I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too,” she replied, then hung up.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked.

“Fine. Mary Margaret knows something's up though.”

“Mum's are good at that, if my hazy recollection is anything to go by.”

And again, Emma was reminded of just how _old_ Killian was. He hardly ever acted it, appearing most of the time to be the roughly thirty year old man who'd captured the heart of a spinner's wife. But sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking, Emma saw the weight of the years overcome his handsome features. He got this faraway sad look in his eyes that made her wish she could do something to erase all the pain and hurt he'd suffered. What could living that long have done to him? Emma could barely think a week ahead most of the time; envisioning _three hundred_ years of living went beyond anything she could even imagine. The things he'd seen. The horrible things he'd done. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the man she knew with the man she knew he had been. Emma knew he'd tell her if she asked; he was never anything but honest with her, even when it was things she hadn't wanted to hear. It was one of the many things she loved about him. Maybe one day soon – after all this craziness died down – she'd ask about Neverland.

Emma pulled into the parking space at the docks and climbed out of the cruiser. Together, Emma and Killian gathered their things and headed to the _Jolly Roger_ , secure in her berth. The late October chill forced them to duck into their cabin to eat. As they ate, Emma tried to examine some of the star charts they had brought, but she might as well have been trying to read Martian for all the sense it made.

“It's a bit early to start fretting, love,” Killian said, as he finished his dinner.

Emma looked over at him. “I know that.”

“Then why the frown?” he asked, grazing her brow with his good hand.

“How can you even make sense of this?” she retorted, gesturing at the charts.

“I've been captain of this ship for a very long time, Emma. Learned to read a chart long before that. You just need someone to show you. Fortunately, you've got me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “How old were you anyway? When you became captain, I mean.”

“Eighteen, why?”

“Didn't you say that you'd gone to sea at fifteen?”

“Aye.”

Three years. It had only taken him three years to work his way up the ranks to captain. Emma knew he'd won the _Jolly Roger_ in a game of chance; it was one of Killian's favorite stories. That meant he'd been captain for roughly two years when he met Milah. Holy crap. Killian really was extraordinary, in every sense of that world. It made her feel woefully inadequate in comparison.

“Wow,” she said. “You were doing a lot better than I was at eighteen.”

“Rubbish,” he retorted. “You were surviving the best way you knew how. There's nothing wrong with that. Besides, you've read my logs. Being in charge of a crew like mine wasn't exactly – what's the phrase – a walk in the park?”

“I have slayed a dragon,” she said.

“Exactly. How many people yet living can say that?”

“My dad?”

Killian grinned. “Like father, like daughter. I wonder if our children will be that way?”

Emma blinked. Did he just say what she thought he just said? “Did you just say _our?”_

Emma had no idea what her face looked like, but she must have looked as freaked out as she felt because Killian immediately started to backtrack. “I am so sorry, love. I wasn't thinking. Forget I said that.” Killian started to gather up the charts; they still had to do what they'd came out here for.

Emma grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Killian, stop. Look at me.” He did as she asked; his blue eyes embarrassed and a bit sad. “Have I ever said that I didn't want children with you?”

“Well, no, but love...”

“I was just surprised, I swear. We haven't talked about _anything_ like that, at least not yet. I mean, we haven't even been together that long.”

“Feels like we have though.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, it does. I didn't even know if children was something you wanted. I know you love Henry – and I'm grateful for that – but if he was all we ever had, I would be alright with that.”

“Do _you_ want another child, Emma? I'll admit that I'd never thought of myself as the fatherly type, but having Henry in my life...”

Emma half smiled. “I know what you mean. I didn't think I could be a mother; didn't think I was wired that way. Then Henry showed up and here I am.” She paused. “We don't have to decide anything now. Honestly, I'm kinda enjoying our time together...alone. Well as alone as we can be with an eleven year old. But one day...”

“Aye, one day,” he said, leaning in for a gentle kiss. Killian pulled away before either of them was tempted to take things further; they still had a job to do.

At promptly eight the next morning, Emma pulled the cruiser into the sheriff's station. She had slept badly; the nightmare with Graham had woken her once again. _Things are not as they appear, beware_. Graham's cryptic warning again. Not even Killian's softly hummed lullaby could banish the sick feeling in her stomach. At least she hadn't yelled Graham's name this time. That had been awkward enough the first time. Idly, she wondered if Killian ever dreamed of Milah, but decided that she didn't want to know. Things were complicated enough with their real life troubles to worry about the pointless musings of her subconscious.

Killian carried the star charts under his left arm as he followed her inside. They were just getting situated in her office when Mary Margaret and David showed up, a box full of pastries from Granny's in hand.

“Emma, don't take this the wrong way,” David said, as he handed her a cup of steaming coffee, “but you look terrible. What's going on?”

“David!” Mary Margaret cried.

Emma tried to smile, but she was too tired and too worried. She hadn't felt like this since Cora was trying to destroy them all. There were too many things going on at once for them to be coincidences. Whatever doubts Emma had evaporated when she and Killian had stargazed the night before. Killian was convinced they were connected; indeed he was already pointing the finger at Gold. Emma wasn't sure she agreed; Belle was the outlier, the thing that didn't make sense. But they needed to investigate and Emma knew she had to bring her parents up to speed. Emma bade them to sit, David dragging in an extra chair. Slowly, Emma explained everything that had happened at Jefferson's and on the _Jolly Roger_.

When she finished, David sat down his coffee, looking at her skeptically. “Not to sound like _that_ guy, but are you sure, Emma? Stars missing from the sky? Even for Storybrooke, that sounds pretty far fetched.”

Emma sighed. “Look, I know. I didn't want to believe it at first either, ask Killian. But I know what we saw.”

As she spoke, Killian stood and started to unroll a few of the charts. “We marked off the spots,” he said, pointing. “There's no rhyme or reason to it that I can see.” His finger rested on the place where the Neverland star should be. He looked over at David, his eyes serious. “Look, your highness. The Neverland star is one of the few that can be seen across realms. It's _always_ there to guide lost souls to Neverland. Something very, very dire is happening here. Something magical.”

“But what do we do about it?” Mary Margaret asked, her voice quiet.

“Who says we need to do anything?” David asked. “I understand why you're concerned, Killian. But there's no evidence that whatever this is is a threat to Storybrooke.”

“How can you say that?” Mary Margaret cried. Emma was stunned at the vehemence in her voice. She'd rarely heard her mother get upset at David. “What if this isn't just Storybrooke? What if it's outside? And what about all the other strange things? That storm? Now Jefferson's missing? I agree with the Captain. Something is going on. We need to find out what it is.”

David looked from his wife to Emma to Killian. All three looked back at him, determined. He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You win. Where do we start?”

“We should ask Mother Superior is she's seen anything like this before. If anyone has, it would be her,” Mary Margaret said.

Emma was about to agree when her phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket and answered it. “Swan.”

“Sheriff,” came the tinny voice on the other end. “It's Nurse Pritchett, at the hospital. You asked me to call you if Mr. Gold came back?”

Emma closed her eyes. She so did not have time to deal with the pawn broker right now. “I did. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. He just went into Belle's room.”

“Is she awake?”

“No, we've got her sedated. She had a bad night.”

Emma wondered if that had anything to do with Henry's visit the previous day. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all. “OK, I'll be right there.” She pressed the end button, frowning.

“What is it, love?” Killian asked.

“Gold. He's visiting Belle.”

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” David asked.

“I don't know,” Emma replied honestly. “He was still pretty upset when I last saw him. I managed to convince him not use magic on her, to try and get her memories back. Not yet anyway. But have we ever known Gold to be patient? I need to get over there.”

“I'll go with you,” Killian said immediately.

Emma arched a brow at him. “Do I need to go into all the ways that is not a good idea?”

“Emma's right, Captain. You go, Emma. David can visit Mother Superior, while the Captain and I search for Jefferson.”

Both Emma and David looked at Mary Margaret like she'd gone nuts. It wasn't that her mother didn't like Killian; it was just that they'd never spent that much time alone together. But Mary Margaret stood, looking determined, every inch the queen she had been born to be. It was the first time Emma had really seen her that way. She turned to her father. “Here, David, take these,” she said, gesturing to the charts. “Mother Superior should see them.”

Emma came around the desk, double checking that she had her gun and her badge. She didn't anticipate trouble, but better safe than sorry. Killian reached out as she passed. “Hey.”

She smiled at him softly. “I know,” she said. “I love you too, you big worrier. I'll see you soon.” She kissed him quickly, then headed out. She drove over to the hospital, not really knowing what she would do when she got there. She couldn't very well order Gold not to visit. It was still a free country. Besides, keeping him from Belle, no matter her state was probably not a good idea. But whatever Emma expected when she arrived, it wasn't what she found.

“I was wondering how long it would take you, Miss Swan,” Gold said, sitting quietly in a chair in the corner of the room.

“You were expecting me?” Emma asked, nonplussed.

“After our conversation the other day, I half expected you to have a guard on her door,” the imp countered. “But then I realized that you would want to come yourself.”

“Look, Gold, I know this must be hard...”

He looked up at her sharply. “ _You have no idea what this is for me_ ,” he growled. “She has no idea who I am, what she means to me. I don't know how, but somehow this is your fault.”

“Now wait a damn minute, Gold. I'm the one who _found_ her, remember? Down in the caves, lost, confused. I don't know what she was doing down there and neither do you. Belle's got a mind of her own, clearly she was down there for a reason. It's not my fault if she didn't decide to tell you what that reason is.”

“It doesn't matter,” Gold said. “You're going to help me get her back.”

“How?” Emma retorted, momentarily worried that he knew her secret; that he wanted Emma to use magic on the poor girl.

“That favor you owe me? This is me cashing it in. There is a plant in our world, one that can bring back lost memories. You're going to go get it for me.”

“Why not get it yourself?”

“Why, Miss Swan, you wouldn't send a cripple into a land infested with ogres, now would you?”

“But you'd let me go? Not really seeing how that's better.”

“You seemed to have survived there pretty well, dearie. Tell me, did it feel like home? It's been so very long for me, you see.”

Emma ignored that. “What if I refuse?” She didn't really have time to be running an errand for Gold, when there was a looming crisis on their hands. But she couldn't really say so, since Gold could be behind it. God, this was _so_ messed up.

“I've always taken you for a woman of your word, Miss Swan,” Gold said, the threat evident in his tone. “But if I must use more _hooked_ forms of persuasion then I will.”

It was no less then she expected. Emma knew the stories. But hearing Gold not so overtly threaten Killian's life made her blood run cold all the same. She looked down, mulling her options. If she refused, she would be putting Killian's life at risk. Emma knew Killian would raise holy hell, but she wouldn't risk his life. He was too important to her, to Henry. Besides, how hard could it be? One simple retrieval mission and it would be over. As long as she avoided the ogres. Emma looked back at the pawn broker, her face set. “I'll do it on one condition,” she said.

Gold chuckled. “I hardly think you're in a position to negotiate, Miss Swan.”

Emma looked at Belle. She looked peaceful in sleep. Emma remembered the scared confusion Belle had down in the caves. Part of Emma felt bad about this but she knew that she had to show Gold that Emma wasn't just another one of his hapless victims. And he had something she wanted. Or rather, Killian wanted. This might be her best chance at getting it back for him.

“Give me Killian's hand back and I'll go get your weed,” Emma said, evenly.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, dearie.”

“Don't give me that, Gold. It's in your shop; Killian saw it. How would Belle feel if she knew you kept a trophy from the murder of your wife?”

Gold blanched. He looked at Belle, frowning. Belle had taken the news that Rumplestiltskin had murdered his first wife badly. It hadn't helped that he'd been holding Killian's heart in his hand at the time. Emma suspected that was something Gold didn't want to repeat.

“As you wish, Miss Swan,” Gold said finally. “Bring me the plant and I will return the pirate's appendage. Though good luck reattaching it; I hear he had a rather unfortunate incident with a pixie.”

  

“If you don't mind me asking, your highness, where did someone such as you become this good at tracking?” Killian asked, he followed Snow through the underbrush. They'd driven out to Jefferson's once again to start searching. To Killian's surprise, the princess had found a faint trail leading away from the house and into the woods. They'd been following it for the better part of an hour.

“What is it going to take for you to call me Snow?” Emma's mother replied, ducking under a low branch.

“Your highness,” Killian began.

Snow stopped, turning to face him. “Look, Killian. I appreciate your desire to be respectful or whatever, but really. You're my daughter's True Love. I'd like you to call me by my name, which is Snow. Or Mary Margaret, whichever you prefer.”

Killian chuckled. He hadn't realized that his overly formal address bothered the princess so much. But then you never could tell with princesses. “If you insist, princess,” he said. “Snow,” he clarified, when she frowned. “That suits you better than Mary Margaret.”

“My mother named me Snow because I was born during the coldest winter our kingdom had ever known,” Snow said with a hint of sadness.

“You must miss her,” Killian said. He knew the story, mostly. Snow's mother had died when she was young and soon after her father had married Regina.

“She never got to meet David, or Emma. My father too,” Snow continued. “It's my biggest regret.”

The princess turned back to the trail, kneeling down occasionally to get her bearings. Killian understood Snow's sadness. His own parents were long dead; they would never meet Emma or Henry. He didn't even remember what they looked like. But then they also would never know all of the terrible things he'd done in the name of vengeance, so maybe this way was better.

“You never answered my question.”

“The tracking?” Snow said bitterly. “After the Huntsman let me go, I spent a _lot_ of time in the forest. I had to learn to survive. Red helped after we became friends. I'm not as good at it as she is, but fortunately Jefferson's not exactly Stealthy.”

“Well, however you learned, it's something you've passed on,” Killian said. “Emma's quite good at it as well.”

Snow smiled. “She did find us. There were times I was afraid that she wouldn't. Who sends their child into an unknown realm with no way to fend for themselves? That moment when Charming took her to the wardrobe was the worst of my life. Seeing the two most important people in my life leave that room...I was desperately afraid that I would never see either of them again. But when I saw that Emma had escaped, I knew...I just knew everything would be alright.”

“Do you hate her? Regina,” he clarified.

Snow sighed. “No. It would be easier if I did, but I don't. Hating her won't change the past. I know it's not the same situation that you have with Rumplestiltskin – and I know you're not me, everyone's different, but think about that, Killian. What does hating him gain you?”

Killian bristled. “He robbed Milah of her life, took my hand. I'm supposed to what? Forgive him? He's a murderer and a coward.”

“You're not the only one Rumplestiltskin has wronged, Captain. Nearly all of us have run afoul of him. And I firmly believe that one day he will be held accountable for all he's done. I guess all I'm asking is that you look after Emma with that same fervency and determination that you hold on to your grudge.”

“After all this time, do you doubt that I will?”

Once again, Snow turned. “No, I don't. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

“So that I would finally feel good about giving you this,” she replied, a small smile playing at her lips. Snow's right hand ghosted over her left, slipping the ring off of her finger. A silver band remained there, one Killian had never noticed before. Had it always been there? He couldn't recall. Snow was looking at him expectantly, holding her ring out to him.

“I'm not following, your highness,” he said, slipping back into old habits.

She frowned at the formal address. “You love Emma, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you're going to need this.”

It dawned on him what Snow wanted to give him the ring for. It was something he and Emma had talked about – once and then forgotten about. Occasionally, Killian thought about it the privacy of his own mind; Emma standing next to him in a white dress, slipping a ring on her finger. He'd never gotten to marry Milah, not officially anyway. They had never needed to; everyone knew they belonged to each other and no one else. But as time passed, Killian realized it was something he wanted to give Emma. Although, the question of whether or not she wanted it too was something that worried him.

“I can't take that, Snow. That belongs to you.”

“Don't you want to marry her?”

“I'm a pirate, Snow. Not exactly the marrying kind.”

Snow frowned. “You're afraid she doesn't want to marry you.”

He remembered how Emma reacted to his inadvertent mention of children. “Emma's an unconventional woman, as I'm sure you've learned. And we're happy as we are. I know that she loves me. We don't need a sodding ceremony or rings to prove that.”

“Do you know where this ring comes from?” Snow asked. Killian shook his head. “This ring belonged to David's mother, Ruth. When he left home, she gave it to him for his bride, telling him that True Love followed it. David and I met because of this ring and we fell in love trying to retrieve it. I was there, Killian. I was there when you met Emma. Generations of my husband's family have found True Love with this,” she said, holding it up once more. “It belongs to Emma now and I'd like you to give it to her.”

“What if she doesn't want it?”

“Marriage isn't just a ceremony, Killian. But even if she doesn't want the actual ceremony, then I still want her to have this. She's happy with you. That's all I've ever wanted for her.”

Killian reached out and took the ring. He stared at it for a moment. Did True Love actually follow it? Snow believed it, Killian supposed that David did too. “Does David know?” he asked.

“About giving you the ring? Whose idea do you think it was?” Snow smiled. “He got me this one to replace that one a few weeks ago. I've just been waiting for the right time to give it to you. I didn't expect it to be out here in the woods, but who am I to argue with fate?” Then her face grew serious. “If you're right about all this, then everything we love is in danger, Captain. I wanted to make sure you understood how David and I felt about you in our daughter's life before it was too late.”

Killian put the ring in his pocket. “Thank you. I know I'm probably not what you envisioned for her – and gods know she's better than I deserve – but I love her. I'll stand by her as long as she wants me, married or not. I wouldn't give her up for the world.”

“I know exactly how you feel, Killian. I just hope you have an easier time than Charming and I have had.”

“He told me once that you were better than he deserved.”

“Did he? I wonder why he'd say that?”

“Well, a shepherd and a pirate falling in love with princesses. It's not exactly conventional now, is it?”

Snow laughed. “Indeed it's not. My father would find this all very shocking, but he'd have liked you. He'd have liked your stories. Like Henry does.”

“He's a good lad.”

Snow looked at her watch. “It's nearly noon,” she said. “We should get back to the trail. I think it might lead to the old cabin; these woods are starting to look familiar. Maybe we'll find Jefferson and Grace there.”

“Lead on, princess.”

They went on quietly, having said everything that needed to be said. Killian tried not to focus on the ring in his pocket. He understood why Snow had given it to him. He just didn't know what to do about it. Did they really need a ceremony to affirm their commitment to one another? Killian remembered Henry's face when the boy has asked if they were getting married. He knew if he asked Henry, then Henry would be in favor of it. Deep down, Killian wanted it too. He hadn't been sure at first – being a husband and father had never entered his head until he fell in love with Emma. Those things implied ties and responsibilities that he'd never wanted before. He loved the freedom of the sea and never thought he'd find a love equal to that. Milah had been the perfect companion then. He couldn't have married her, even if he had wanted to; she was married already. It didn't diminish his love for her, but his love for Emma was different. She'd been so alone when he'd met her, with walls like he'd never seen. It had taken so long to break them down; there were times he had despaired of ever accomplishing the task. The challenge had fired him, brought him back to life without him even realizing it. It wasn't until he learned of her debt to the Crocodile that Killian recognized what he felt for her. And every day since he'd fallen in love with her a little bit more. Maybe once the threat was passed he'd ask her.

Killian saw the cabin coming into sight. It was a run down shack that had clearly seen better days. Snow walked around it, checking to see if the trail continued. Killian could tell by the look on her face that it didn't. He wasted no time, pushing open the door to the cabin. Snow followed him, calling for Jefferson. There was no sign of them.

“Look around,” Snow ordered. “The trail stops here, they have to be around somewhere.”

The cabin only had one room; it seemed pretty obvious to Killian that they weren't there. But he did as she asked anyway. There was a table off to the side; Killian stooped to peak under it. A dark shape loomed between the chair legs, Killian reached in and caught it on his hook. Pulling it out, he frowned. It was Jefferson's hat. He stood and turned, intent on telling Snow, but he found her standing behind him, hat box in hand.

“They're gone.”

“Aye.”

“I wonder where they went?” Snow said, nodding at the hat.

“Could be anywhere. There are many portals in this hat.”

“I just hope that wherever they are, they're safe.” Snow commented, as she phone begin to ring. She answered it; it was Emma. Killian could tell from Snow's half of the conversation that it wasn't good news. When she hung up, she looked at Killian. “We have to go; Emma needs you."

“Me? What's happened? Was it the Crocodile?” Killian hated every second Emma was forced to spend with that demon. He knew Emma could take care of herself, but it always left him uneasy.

“She's fine, but whatever is going on she didn't want to explain over the phone.”

Over an hour later, Snow pulled up in front of the apartment. Killian immediately hopped out and practically ran inside. As soon as Emma saw him, she stood up and walked into his embrace. He held her tightly, confused but relieved. What was going on?

Emma pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes serious. “You know that I love you, right?”

Killian immediately grew suspicious. He stepped back from her, holding her at arm's length. “What did you do, Emma?”

Emma stared at him, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Gold is calling in his favor,” she said flatly.

“But...he can't. I already...” Killian spluttered. “What does he want?” If anything happened to Emma, he was going to kill that demon if it was the last thing he did.

“He says there's a plant in the Enchanted Forest that can get Belle's memories back. He wants me to get it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Killian!”

“Don't you see, Emma! That sodding imp is trying to get you away from Storybrooke for whatever he's got planned.”

“Killian's right,” David said. “I wouldn't be surprised if he had Belle lose her memories on purpose, just so he could ask you this.”

Emma stepped back from them, her face red with anger. “I know Gold's done a lot of horrible things, but you weren't there. I was. And I am telling you he had nothing to do with Belle's accident. He's really genuinely worried about her.”

“I agree with Emma,” Snow said, standing next to her daughter. “Gold's terrible, no question. But he wouldn't put Belle in jeopardy, not on purpose.”

Killian started pacing. “That may be,” he said, still not really willing to believe it, “but you're still not going.”

“What did you just say?”

_She'll need you. Protect her_. He didn't know why Milah word's from his nightmare were coming to him now, but every instinct was screaming at him to heed them. “I said, you're not going. It's dangerous. And that demon isn't worth it,” he said, his face softening, hoping that she would understand.

“And what about Belle? She's innocent, Killian. Whatever reason she was down in those caves, it wasn't so that she could lose her memories on purpose.”

“There has to be another way,” he countered stubbornly.

“No, there isn't.” Emma looked down at the floor, then back up at him. “He threatened you, Killian.”

“Let him come, I'm not afraid of the Crocodile.”

“But what about me? And Henry? I can't lose you, Killian. I can't. Isn't that why you went after him on the bridge? Because you couldn't lose me the way you lost Milah. I know it's dangerous. And I know this the absolute _worst_ time, but I have to do this.”

Killian looked at her for long seconds. He knew she was right. If Emma failed to do as the Crocodile asked, there was no telling where that demon's wrath could lead. He didn't fear for his own life; he'd been at or near death too many times for that. But what if Emma or Henry got caught in the crossfire? Killian would ever be able to forgive himself if anything happened to either of them. It was the price, he realized, the price of falling in love. Your loved ones could be used against you. It was a trick the Crocodile knew well.

“You're not going alone,” he said finally.

“I was hoping you'd say that. I don't think I could have anyway.”

“This is a very bad idea,” David said.

“Do you have a better one, Charming?” Snow asked. “We know how Rumplestiltskin operates. He's done the same thing to us, remember?”

David nodded glumly. Killian could tell that the prince hated this idea even more than he did, but knew better than to gainsay the women. “So when do we leave?” David asked.

“Whoa,” Emma said. “I appreciate the offer, really. But you guys need to stay here. Someone needs to look after Henry and keep investigating this other stuff.”

“But Emma...”

“Are you sure, Emma?” Snow said. “I don't like the idea of being separated from you again.”

“Believe me, I don't either. But someone trustworthy needs to try and figure out what the hell is going on. That storm, the stars, Jefferson. Something huge is going on. I can trust you to figure out what it is. Besides, Killian and I won't be gone that long...hopefully.”

“Well, Mother Superior doesn't know anything,” David said.

“And Jefferson and Grace are gone,” Snow added. “We found Jefferson's hat in the old cabin, but no Jefferson or Grace.”

Emma's brows knitted together in worry. “There has to be an explanation. We just haven't found it yet. If you guys stay, we can work both problems as the same time. We'll be back as soon as we can, I promise.”

Snow nodded, resigned. “David and I will look through the library again, there might be something we missed. Belle was down in those caves for a reason. Maybe she was onto something.”

Emma brightened. “Good idea. Killian and I will leave after Henry gets home from school. That should give us time to gather all the things we'll need.”

“I'm assuming we're taking the _Roger_ , love?” Killian asked.

“You bet your ass. I don't want to touch that hat until we know where Jefferson went.”

Killian and Emma spent the rest of the afternoon loading the _Jolly Roger._ Weapons, supplies, clothes. Neither wanted to be gone long, but Rumplestiltskin's directions to the mysterious plant were vague at best so they planned accordingly.

“Are you alright, Killian?” Emma asked. “You've been quiet.”

“This wasn't the way I envisioned us returning home, lass.”

“Look, Killian...”

“Emma, I know why we're doing this. If he had threatened you...I'd move heaven and earth to keep you safe.”

“I'd do the same for you, you know.”

“I know.”

Emma stepped over to him, taking his left arm in her hands. “There's something else. I was going to wait until we got back to tell you, but you deserve to know. I told Gold I'd bring back his plant on one condition.”

“What was that?”

“That he return your hand.”

“What? Emma, I,” he began, then shook his head. “No, it's not worth it. Why would you do that?”

She looked at him as if he were supremely stupid. “Because you need it.”

“No, I don't. I don't need that sodding hand; I do need _you_ , Emma. It's not worth risking your life for.”

“You have to stop punishing yourself, Killian,” she said vehemently. “What happened to Milah wasn't your fault. Maybe if you got your hand back, you could begin to let it go.”

“I don't deserve it back,” he countered. “Emma, if you knew all the things I'd done...I already know I don't deserve you, but I'm too much of a selfish sod to give you up. I need to have some reminder of who I was, so that I can be who I am now, who I am because of you.”

“I'm better because of you too. I was so alone, closed off from people. And I had something that reminded me of that,” she reached down her shirt and pulled out the necklace he had given her. “I returned that reminder because I didn't need it anymore. I didn't need it, because I know I have you.” Emma held his hook. “You don't need this anymore, Killian. You have me. And Henry. And if there's a chance I can give you back that part of yourself, then I will.”

Killian looked at her, speechless. She really did believe it. She believed in _him_. He thought about what Snow had said. _She's happy with you._ The ring Snow had given him burned in his pocket, but now was not the time. Someday soon, he promised himself. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her. Emma reached up grabbing the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Killian tangled his hand in her golden hair as he deepened the kiss, hoping to convey all he felt without words.

At length, she pulled back, breathless. “Ready to go home?” she asked.

He nodded.


	7. Chapter 6

Emma stood at the portside rail of the _Jolly Roger_ looking out at the coast line. They'd come through the portal without incident, one of their precious beans now gone. There were only three left; Emma had them stored away in the knapsack Henry had lent her for the journey. She tried not to think about leaving Henry behind; these separations were just as hard for her as they were for him. He'd been so brave when Emma had told him that she and Killian had to take this trip to the Enchanted Forest. As she expected, Henry tried to make an argument for why he should go along, but Emma had been firm. With the ogres, it was still too dangerous. Instead, Henry had given her his knapsack and the magic compass, expressing his confidence that they'd be home soon. He always looked at her with such hope and faith, more than Emma was ever comfortable with, more than she deserved. It just gave her added impetus to get this search over with as soon as possible so that they could get back to Henry and their life. After they sorted out whatever the hell was going on with the storms and stars and such, that is.

Emma heard Killian's footfalls from behind her, but didn't turn. She felt his arms go around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Everything alright, love?”

Emma sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

“Liar.” He waited a beat, then continued. “I miss him, too, Emma. Henry would love this.”

Emma rested her hands on Killian's forearms, reassured by his solid strength. “Yeah, he would.”

“Have you ever thought about coming back? Permanently?”

Emma turned her head, eying him warily. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Well, this is our native realm, my dear.”

“But Storybrooke's _home._ Isn't it?” Were they really having this discussion again?

“Emma, you know I will be – I _am_ happy wherever you are. But you have to admit that there's a certain poetry to all of us returning to the place where we belong. Undeniably, your lad's curious about where his family hails from. But the decision is yours.”

“Killian, you sound like David.” Emma had heard her father talk about returning to the Enchanted Forest. She knew he missed the simpler mode of life there, missed his sword. Mary Margaret was less enthusiastic, but Emma was beginning to suspect that was because of her. Given the time they'd already lost, Mary Margaret was unwilling to go anywhere that Emma wouldn't follow. Honestly, it wasn't something she'd ever really considered. The world of cell phones and cars and modern conveniences was home. It's where she'd grown up, despite how utter crappy that growing up had been. Emma had floundered badly when she'd been thrust into the land she was truly from. With Mary Margaret's help, Emma found her footing, but it had never occurred to her to call this world _home_. Home was where Henry was, where her parents were, now where Killian was. That was Storybrooke, with all its weirdness. Emma just couldn't see herself living in a castle.

“He and I have talked about it, aye.”

“You have?”

“It's one of the few subjects on which your father and I agree.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” she retorted. “Look, Killian, can we not talk about this now? Let's just do what we came here for. Right now, Storybrooke needs us more than the Enchanted Forest.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about that, love.”

“What do you mean?”

Killian released her and rested his hand and hook on the rail. “After you fell asleep last night, I came out here to check the stars. The same thing's happening here, Emma.”

That sick feeling in her stomach was back. “Here? But... _how?_ You said each realm has its own stars, mostly.”

“I don't know. But it has to be magical, yeah?”

“I don't think there's any way to dispute that at this point, Killian. But one problem at time, okay? Mary Margaret and David are working that angle. I think we should concentrate on getting this job done, then get home so we can fix everything else.”

Killian nodded. He focused his gaze on the shoreline; Emma felt the ship sway under her as she turned slightly to port, rounding a corner as they skimmed the coast. Emma followed Killian's gaze, but was nearly blinded by the bright mid morning light. As soon as her eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped. Looming in front of them was the remains of a castle. A castle Emma had seen before; it belonged to her parents and it was where she had been born.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

“You know that place?”

“That's where I was born,” Emma said. “You really didn't know?”

“Emma, when I knew that castle, it belonged to King Benedict. I _might_ have run afoul of him, once or twice. Or was that Edward? All those royal types bleed together.”

Emma cocked a brow at him. “Wait, so you're telling me that you 'ran afoul' of my great-great-great-god I don't know how many-grandfather?”

“It _was_ three hundred years ago, love.”

“What did you steal?”

“Don't really remember. We could check the logs again, if you're very curious,” he smirked. Killian clearly found this very funny.

“Think I'll pass.” She looked back at the charred ruins. “You didn't do this on purpose, did you?” she asked. All that talk about coming back for good made her wonder.

“What? Sail us past your home en route to the Crocodile's hiding place? Don't look at me, love. Sometimes the _Jolly Roger_ gets a mind of her own. Maybe _you_ did it without realizing. She does like you quite a bit, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. He couldn't be serious. The idea that she had inadvertently directed the _Jolly Roger_ toward the place where she'd been born was insane. Emma hadn't even been paying that much attention when she'd been there last; she'd just followed in Mary Margaret's wake. Emma didn't even know where exactly the castle _was_ in the Enchanted Forest; the place didn't exactly have a gas station where they could buy a map. But the fact remained that the castle was looming in front of them, getting ever closer. Emma could feel the pull of the place. It had been dark the last time, illuminated only by the moonlight. It looked different – less forbidding, perhaps? – in the daylight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian watching her. “What?” she asked.

“You want to stop, don't you?” he said.

“What? No! Killian, we don't have _time_. Magic plant to go get, remember?”

“Aye, and for some reason, we're sailing directly past the place where you were meant to grow up. It's natural to be curious, love. And I'd like to see it myself.”

“I thought you said you'd already seen it.”

“They didn't keep the valuables in the castle proper, Emma.”

Emma huffed. Of course they didn't. She couldn't believe that she was actually considering this. They had a job to do; one job and they could leave. They needed to get back to Storybrooke as soon as possible. She'd promised Henry. Henry...he would love to have a souvenir. Emma pictured his face lighting up when she brought back some genuine piece of their family's past.

Turning her eyes back to Killian, she sighed. “Alright. _One hour_. Then we're going to do what we came here to do. Okay?”

Killian nodded in agreement, then dashed off to the helm. Minutes later, they were aligned with the dock and Killian went to tie them off. Emma followed him down the gangplank; the castle looming over her head. Nothing looked familiar, which made sense. They'd come in the main gate when she'd been there with her mother. Cautiously, she pushed open the first door she saw and stepped inside.

Everything that hadn't been destroyed had a fine lay of dust on it. Judging from the pots and pans, this was the castle kitchen. They moved from room to room silently; honestly there wasn't much to see, just the charred remains of what might have been. As they moved up through the corridors, it got brighter; Emma could see the dust particles in the sunbeams. The sight made her sad. This castle had been in her family for generations and now it was little more than a pile of rubble.

They came upon a set of huge doors; it took both of them to push them open. The huge cavernous room was filled with light from the stained glass windows. Emma recognized a few of them from Henry's book. “I know what this is,” she whispered. “My parents were married in here.”

“It's beautiful, love.”

Emma swiped her finger along one of the ledges, then blew off some of the dust. “It _was_ at any rate,” she sighed. “Come on, I'll show you my nursery.”

Killian followed her out of the room and down the corridor; Emma saw him fiddling with something in his pocket, but she hadn't the slightest idea what it was. Knowing him, he'd probably nicked something along the way. Together, they climbed the last staircase to where Emma's nursery lay. The room looked just as she remembered, only this time it was sunlight and not moonlight that shown through the large windows. Emma could see the _Jolly Roger_ out the window.

“Do you feel that?” Killian asked.

Emma concentrated; then she felt it too, the subtle pulse of magic. The last ashes of the wardrobe lay in the corner of the room. “That's where the wardrobe was,” she informed him, pointing.

“Do you think the ashes still have power?”

“Maybe. We can take some, just in case.”

As Killian gathered some of the ashes, Emma looked around. The crib she never got to use, some broken toys, the now dull paint. This where she was meant to grow up, learn to walk, to talk, to do all those things that children get to do. It still seemed hard to believe. Curiously, she sifted through some of the broken toys. Her hand curled around one of the dolls and she pulled it out.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it, love?”

Emma held the doll out to him; it was a pirate.

“Well, now, what is this?” Killian asked, grinning. He walked over to her, next to her dilapidated crib. He took the pirate from her and examined it. “I've seen these before, actually. Meant to stand guard over a child at night, but they usually come in pairs.” He squatted down, sifting through the rubble with his hook. “Ah, here it is.” He stood, dangling a knight from his hook.

Emma took it from him, looking it over carefully. “Stand guard? Like magic?”

“No, nothing like that. Just an old wives' tale, really,” he explained. “These are nicer than most though, which makes sense, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Well, love, I don't know if you noticed, but you _are_ a princess.”

Emma punched him playfully in the arm. “Shut up.” She looked back at the knight in her hand. “I wonder why these though. A knight and a pirate? Doesn't seem very princess-y.”

“Your realm has an odd idea of what makes a princess, my love.”

“Could you picture me in here? Wearing some big poofy dress, getting ready for a ball or something. Boring.”

“Somehow I don't think you'd be that kind of princess. There's too much of your father in you.”

“What? You wouldn't like the demure princess version of me?” she teased.

“You don't have a demure bone in your body, Emma. A fact for which I am grateful every single day,” he replied, kissing her temple.

Emma turned her head slightly to hide her blush. “Come on, pirate. Time to go.” She handed the knight back to Killian. “Here, we should take these with us. Henry will appreciate them.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, sliding them into his satchel. “I think he would be _most_ interested in these.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, love, think about it. A knight and a pirate. Your father's a knight. I'm a pirate. There are those that would call that fate.”

“David was a shepherd.”

“Who then became a knight and a prince when he married your mother. Nobility isn't born, Emma. It's made.”

“They're just dolls, Killian.”

“Says the woman who is the physical embodiment of True Love, who's father is a knight and True Love is a pirate,” he countered testily.

“I told you, I don't believe in fate.”

“Then I'll just have to believe enough for both of us.”

Emma stared at him as he started out of the room. What was _that_ about?

They didn't talk much after the _Jolly Roger_ got underway once more. Emma headed into their cabin, needing some space from Mr. Cranky Pants. Honestly, she didn't understand what the big deal was. What did it matter? Emma took out the knight and the pirate from Killian's satchel and stared at them for a long time. Killian truly did believe that their meeting was fate. Considering all the things that had to go _exactly_ right for them to meet the way they did, it was hard to argue with him. And now she found out her parents had chosen these two dolls to stand watch over her crib before she'd even been born. It was weird, no doubt. But fate? She just couldn't believe it. Emma had seen and experienced a lot of strange things since coming to Storybrooke, but this was too much even for her.

Emma was still mulling all this over when Killian appeared in the doorway. “We're here, love.”

“What?” she said, dumbly.

“I said, we're here. The place the Crocodile sent us.”

Emma sat the dolls on the table. “Oh, that's good.” She stood. “We should go then.”

“Emma, wait,” he said, reaching out for her. “It's nearly dark; we should wait until morning.”

“I knew that visit to the castle was a waste of time.”

Killian stepped back from her, looking hurt. “Sharing where you come from with me is a waste of time?”

“No! I didn't mean...” she trailed off, uncertain. They weren't exactly _fighting_ ; Emma wasn't sure what this was.

“Then pray, love, what _do_ you mean?”

“Why are you being like this?” she countered. “You didn't even want to come here, you tried to _forbid_ me from coming here! We're here to get that damn plant for Gold and that's it! And now that I want to do that so we can get home, you're being Mr. Cautious and Careful. What happened to Captain Hook, the most fearsome pirate of them all?”

“Are you implying I'm _afraid_?”

“No! I don't know what you are! You've been acting odd ever since you got back from the cabin with Mary Margaret. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

Killian sighed heavily and sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you want from me, Emma?” he said plaintively.

“How about an explanation? Did Mary Margaret say something to you? Because I know she means well, but she does not get to dictate my life. I'm a grown woman, for god's sake.”

“We did have a chat,” Killian said, his eyes still cast down on the floor. “But it's not what you think.”

“Then what was it?”

Killian fiddled with that mysterious thing in his pocket again. “This is not how I envisioned this happening, love.”

“Envisioned _what?_ I'm not a mind reader, Killian. You have to tell me.”

“You want to know what happened to Captain Hook? He fell in love. Again. With the most extraordinary woman, one he doesn't deserve. A princess no less. What else could that be but fate? You have me feeling and wanting things I never wanted before, Emma. Not even with Milah. And now, here I am again with a woman I love at the mercy of that demon. What if I can't protect you? I can't go through that again, Emma. I won't survive it a second time.”

Emma stepped between his legs and placed her hand under his chin forcing him to look at her. “Remember what you said to me in the sheriff's station? You promised me that we wouldn't become my parents; that we wouldn't let anything separate us. And _we won't_. We're going to get Gold off our backs with this favor and we're going to stop whatever else is going on. We're better together, Killian. You can't let my mother – for all her good intentions – doubt that. I love you and I will always love you.”

To Emma's surprise, Killian stood. Gently, he maneuvered them around so that she was the one sitting on the bed. Then he knelt in front of her. He'd done this so many times that she didn't think anything of it until he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He held it up; it was Mary Margaret's ring.

“What is that?” she asked, stupidly. “Killian, what's going on?”

“Way to boost a man's confidence, love.”

“Killian Jones needs a confidence boost?” she asked, realization dawning. Suddenly, everything made sense: the overprotectiveness, the talk about their future, the talk of fate. “Are you sure you're really him?”

“He bloody well does for this. I'm sailing blind here.”

Emma reached out and touched his face. “Go ahead, Captain. Ask.”

Killian swallowed audibly, then locked his impossibly blue gaze with hers. “Marry me, Emma.”

“That didn't sound so much like a question as it did a demand,” she teased, unable to resist.

Killian didn't flinch, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “This is my ship, love. I make the demands and you follow them, remember?”

“Yes,” she said simply. A smile spreading over her face and joy filling her heart.

The relief in his eyes contrasted with the euphoric grin that dominated his face. Slowly, Killian slid the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. It was odd seeing her mother's ring on her own finger, but Emma could only suppose that Mary Margaret had her reasons. Before she could question him about it, Killian leaned up and kissed her hard. Emma's hands flew to his head, holding him as he rose and leaned her back onto the bed and plundered her mouth as if he hadn't kissed her in a thousand years.

Emma moaned as his weight settled over her in a way that was not unpleasant. She clung to his shoulders as he trailed his lips along her jaw and neck. Emma knew there were things they needed to do, but at this moment, she didn't care. Killian was one of the two most important things in her life and he'd just made her happier than she could ever remember being. So that thing they were supposed to do? It could wait. She needed him and he needed her and for the first time, it didn't scare her.

“Emma,” Killian whispered, nipping at her earlobe.

“I know,” she said. “It's okay.”

He kissed her again, his tongue gently sweeping her lower lip, begging for entrance. She gave it gladly, her fingers twining in his dark hair. The kiss seemed to go on forever; indeed, Emma knew she could have been content to remain this way, kissing him...forever. But at the same time, it wasn't enough. With him, there was no such thing as enough. Emma hadn't thought it was possible to feel this way about anyone. She'd never been more happy to be proven wrong. And now he'd asked her to be his wife. Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought. _Wife._ Not a word she thought could ever apply to her, but with Killian it felt right. She was his wife in all but name, as it was. And since she had no intention of giving him up or losing him, she found that she wanted to be tied to him. Permanently.

“I love you, Killian,” she said, as he trailed another line of kisses down her neck.

Killian raised his head and looked down at her, his eyes shining with love and happiness. “I love you, Emma. More than I can say.”

“Can you show me?”

He smirked. “Aye, I can do that.” Killian crawled off of her and stood up. She immediately missed his warmth. He held out his good hand and helped her sit up. After pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, Killian stepped back slightly. He studied her critically for a moment, then smiled. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Always.”

“Good.” Then without warning, Killian slashed through her blouse with his hook. One slash in front and another in back and the cloth fell to the floor in ribbons. Not once did he scratch her. Deftly, he reached behind her with his good hand, unclasping her bra and pitching it to the floor. Emma looked at him curiously as he bid her to stand.

“You're beautiful,” he said quietly.

Emma had never felt beautiful in her whole life; objectively, she knew men found her attractive, but she never saw it. But she did when Killian looked at her. It had frightened her at first, but now it was one of her favorite things about him. And he was too far away from her at the moment. Emma reached for his waistband and yanked him toward her.

“Are you just gonna stare all night?” she whispered harshly in his ear.

Killian groaned. “Can't a man take a few minutes to ogle his fiance?”

“You're supposed to be showing me how much you love me, Captain.”

“Like this?” he said, trailing the curved edge of his hook along the underside of her breast. Emma shivered. “Or this?” as he ducked his head and sucked on her pulse point. “Or this?” as he nipped at her earlobe and used his good hand to bring her hips flush with his. Emma could feel his desire for her through the double layer of denim that separated them. She held on to his shoulders for support, in moments her knees had gone weak. How did he always manage to drive her crazy with want and hardly touch her?

Gently, Killian guided her to the wall next to the bed. Emma leaned against it gratefully. But she had no time to recover, as Killian's lips slid along her collarbone and down her chest. She gasped as he took one of her taut nipples into his mouth and lavished it with attention until it was tender. As he moved to the other, Emma could feel the ache low in her belly. She held his head with one hand and blindly reached out with the other. She felt the cool steel of his hook beneath her fingers and dragged it to where she wanted him. Killian looked at her curiously until she pressed her hips forward rubbing her still denim covered center against his hook.

“Is this what you want, love?” he asked, pressing the hook along the zipper of her pants.

“Yes,” she said defiantly, daring him to deny her.

He gave her a feral grin. “As you wish, princess.”

Killian knelt down in front of her and methodically removed her jeans, socks and boots. The only thing that remained were her panties. Killian slid his hook over the scrap of cloth that still covered her, teasing her with light strokes. Emma braced her hands against the wall, rolling her hips, trying to get more friction. “Killian,” she breathed.

He looked up at her, his good hand ghosting up her thigh sending electric shocks across her skin. Emma's heart beat rapidly in her chest; the ache and want of him nearly driving her mad. Slowly, Killian's good hand found the edge of her panties and tugged on them until the fragile cloth ripped and fell to the floor. Only then did he give her what she wanted. The smooth steel glided along her sensitive flesh drawing a moan from her throat. Emma looked down at what he was doing with hooded eyes. The steel pressed harder; Emma rolled her hips into it wantonly. Killian's fingers replaced his hook at her entrance, sliding into her easily. Her back arched as his fingers moved in and out of her, driving her closer to the edge. She could feel her release building, but she needed more. As if reading her mind, Killian slid his hook over her swollen clit, once, twice, three times. Emma screamed as the waves of her orgasm washed over her; her body trembling with the force of it.

It was almost too much. Emma's legs would no longer support her; Killian caught her before she fell. Carefully, he moved her to the bed. Her eyes half closed, Emma watched him as he undressed. The lean hard muscles of his back and shoulders as he removed his shirt, the trail of coarse black hair the disappeared into his pants, the curve of his ass as he bent over to take off his boots. Despite the way her body still tingled, Emma wanted him. When he straightened, she beckoned him to her.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as he climbed over her. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. She could feel the tautness and tension in his muscles as he moved over her. “I want you _so_ much, Emma. I don't think I could be slow or gentle right now, love,” he said tightly.

Emma lifted his head to look into his eyes. “I won't break. I want you, Killian.”

Killian groaned and closed his eyes, the tension flitting across his face. Emma thrust her hips into his and nipped at his earlobe. “Take me, Captain.”

Killian's eyes opened and bored into hers; a second later, his hips shifted and he buried his length deep inside her. Emma cried out in relief and kissed his brow, urging him to move. True to his word, his strokes were rough, needy and desperate. Emma chanted his name softly, almost like a prayer and clung to him tightly, wanting to be as close to him as she could. Aftershocks continued to wrack her body as he took what he needed. To her surprise, Killian snaked his good hand between them and brushed his fingers over over clit. She was still so sensitive that it took only seconds for him to spark another orgasm. Emma cried out as she felt her muscles tighten around him like a vice. Killian shouted hoarsely as he followed her over the edge.

Emma felt Killian collapse on top of her, but she didn't have the strength to roll him off. Besides, his weight was easily bearable. Absently, she stroked whatever skin she could reach in her boneless state. Killian nuzzled her neck contentedly for a few minutes, before rolling off her on his own. Weakly, Emma saw him sit up, unscrew his hook and pull the duvet over them. Carefully, he gathered her in his arms and laid back.

“I love you, Emma,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you, too,” she managed to mutter.

Killian chuckled. “Sleep, love. We've got a long day tomorrow.”

“Hmmm,” Emma hummed. She was pleasantly sated and happy. In no time, she was asleep.

_The room was dark. Killian didn't know where it was, but he knew he was somewhere he shouldn't be. Instantly, he worried about Emma. Where was she? He felt blindly in the dark for her, but she was nowhere near him._

“ _Emma!” he called. “Emma!”_

_There was no answer._

_There was a blinding light; Killian closed his eyes against it instinctively. When he opened them, he hoped Emma would be standing there, wherever this strange place was._

_But the person who stood in the light wasn't Emma. It was Milah._

“ _No,” he said. “It can't be.”_

_Milah smiled softly. “Hello, Killian.”_

_She looked just as she had in life – chestnut brown curls flowing down her back, laughing blue eyes sparkling with mischief, pirate's garb clinging to her curves. “Is it really you?” he asked, then immediately felt guilty. Emma was somewhere in this infernal place; he needed to find her._

“ _In a manner of speaking,” Milah said._

“ _Am I dead?” he asked._

_Milah laughed her melodic laugh; it made his chest ache. “No, my love. You are very much alive. This is just a dream.”_

“ _But how...”_

“ _Killian, I don't have much time, so you must listen to me carefully. There is something very dangerous at work.”_

“ _The stars,” he said. “I know.”_

“ _This is so much larger than you know, my love. Rumplestiltskin is planning something devastating. He doesn't even realize just how dangerous it is; not that he would care if he did. He's too blinded by rage now.”_

_Killian couldn't help himself; he reached out for her, but his fingers glided through as if she were a ghost. Which he supposed in a way, she was. Milah smiled at him sadly. “I am here, but not here, Killian. I came to warn you.”_

“ _But how, Milah? You died in my arms.”_

“ _Because of what my husband has done – or rather what he has begun to do. He's planning a spell, a spell that will bring down the barrier between Storybrooke and the rest of the world your Emma calls home. But Killian – what Rumplestiltskin doesn't know is that his spell is so powerful that it will bring_ all _the barriers down. It's already begun.”_

“ _The stars,” Killian breathed._

“ _Yes,” Milah said. “And it is how I can speak to you now. All the barriers between worlds are slowly collapsing, Killian. Even the one between life and death.”_

_Killian stared at her. “Do you mean...”_

“ _Could I return to you? No, my love. I would be but a ghost. But you are no longer alone, Killian. I watched you for so long, hoping that one day you would find happiness again. And now you have.”_

_Killian shifted uncomfortably. “I'm so sorry, Milah. Sorry I couldn't protect you from him. Sorry I could say what I should have said.”_

_Milah reached out her ghostly hand; Killian could almost feel her touch. Almost. “I love you, Killian. I'd give my life for yours a thousand times. I don't regret it. You have Emma now; she needs you. And you need her. In a way you never needed me.”_

_Killian opened his mouth to protest, but Milah merely smiled. “It's alright, Killian. I know you loved me. But what you have with Emma is True. And if I in some small way helped bring you together, then I am happy for you. Please tell her that for me.”_

“ _I will,” he promised. And because he knew this would be his last chance to say it, he said, “I love you, Milah.”_

“ _And I love you. We will see each other again. Take care of Emma. And my grandson,” she smiled. Then she was gone._

Gasping, Killian opened his eyes. Emma hovered over him, her face clouded with worry. Everything came back to him in a rush. Milah. Rumplestiltskin. The stars. The barriers. Milah's blessing. He looked up at Emma; she was blurry. Killian blinked and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. “Hey,” Emma said softly. “It's okay. It was just as bad dream.”

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't find his voice. He realized with a start that he'd never cried for Milah. In three hundred years, he'd never cried, wept out his grief. Unbidden, it threatened to overwhelm him. He choked on a sob; he didn't want Emma to see. But she was too fast for him. She gathered him in her arms and held him tight. “Get it out, Killian. It's okay; I'm here.”

And Killian buried his head in her neck and wept.

He didn't know how long they stayed that way: Emma holding him as he cried. But gradually, the hiccuping sobs and tears slowed, then stopped. Killian kissed Emma tear stained skin gently before raising his head to look at her. The worry that was etched on her face warmed his heart. It had been so long since someone _worried_ about him, about how he was feeling. _You need her. In a way you never needed me._

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asked quietly, brushing away his tears with her thumb.

Killian nodded, still unsure how to begin. But Emma needed to hear it. Killian sat up and Emma followed, taking his hand. He saw the ring there and remembered the pure joy in his heart when she said yes. They could do this; together, they could handle the worst the fates through at them. That's what Milah had been trying to tell him; he understood that now. He cleared his throat before looking into Emma's worried sea green eyes.

“It was Milah, Emma.”

“Oh, Killian,” Emma whispered. “I am so sorry.”

“No, it's not what you think. She needed to warn me – warn _us_ – about something. About Rumplestiltskin.”

“Killian, I know that's what you want to believe, but...Milah's dead.”

“She knew about the stars, Emma. And if she's right, that's not the worst of it. Just listen to me, yeah?”

“Alright, Killian. I believe you.”

Slowly, he explained Milah's warning: Rumplestiltskin's plan to bring down the barrier between Storybrooke and the outside, the power of the spell, how the magical barriers between worlds were deteriorating. As he spoke, Emma got increasingly pale.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Can he do that? Is it even possible?”

“You saw the stars disappearing as well as I did, Emma. _All_ the barriers are deteriorating, even life and death, Milah said.”

“Graham. That's what he was trying to tell me.” Killian cocked an brow. Emma smiled softly. “In my nightmare, silly. He said 'Things are not as they appear. Beware.' I had no idea what he was talking about. But he must have known something was wrong.”

“You never said anything,” Killian pouted.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything. Judging from how jealous you got when I mentioned him, can you blame me? Was this the only dream about Milah you've had lately?” she asked astutely.

Killian flushed. “No, it's not. But if it makes you feel better, love, she mentioned you.”

“She did? Do I even want to know?”

Killian smiled. “She asked me to give you a message.”

Emma looked at him apprehensively. “What is it?”

“She said that what we have is True. And that if she helped bring us together, then she was happy for us. And she asked me to take care of you and Henry.”

“She knows about Henry?”

“Aye. Said she'd been watching me, hoping I'd find some happiness. And I did.” Killian raised her hand to his lips and brushed them across her knuckles. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, Killian. So much.” She leaned in and kissed him gently. “Did you get to tell her?”

Killian knew what she meant. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest. “I did.”

“I'm glad,” Emma replied. He could see she really was; Emma understood him. “So what do we do now? There has to be a way to stop Gold.”

“I can think of one,” Killian said, darkly.

Emma glared at him. “As much as he probably deserves it, we're _not_ killing him.”

“He's trying to destroy our world! All the worlds, Emma! What _should_ we do then?”

“I don't know!”

“What he tries to kill us first? Because that's what he'll do if he finds out we know what he's planning.”

Emma rubbed her free hand over her face. “Maybe we can reason with him,” she said, as if trying to convince herself. “If we help him with Belle, then maybe...”

“He doesn't deserve Belle,” Killian said bitterly.

“How many times have you said that you don't deserve me?” Emma asked. “It's not about deserving, Killian. Belle loves him; she sees something in him the rest of us don't. If we can't get through to him, then maybe _she_ can. But she can't do that if she doesn't remember.”

“I don't think it will be that simple, love.”

“Honestly? I don't either. But it's our best option right now. Let's hope Mary Margaret and David find out something more before we get back.”

“So we're still going after the Crocodile's weed?”

“Yes. Belle's still innocent, Killian. She didn't ask for this.”

Killian held up in his hand in surrender. “Fine. Let's get this sodding thing over with.”

A couple of hours later, Killian and Emma beached the small boat on the rocky shore. The _Jolly Roger_ was anchored a hundred yards off shore, her drought too deep for the shallows. The boat – like the rest of the _Jolly Roger_ – was enchanted. No one but Killian or Emma would be able to take it back to the ship, so Killian had no qualms about leaving it unattended. They hefted their packs and headed into the forest.

After another hour of wading through the underbrush and trees, Killian paused to take a drink. “Didn't the Crocodile give you more precise directions, love? Maybe he was just putting you on.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You really hate the forest, don't you?”

“And you don't?” he shot back, knowing full well how Emma felt about the outdoors.

“Point taken. You still want to move back here?”

He never got to answer her; there was a large crash off to their left. Both of them froze, looking. Instinctively, Killian reached for his sword, pulling it out a few inches. Beside him, he saw Emma do the same. _There's a good lass_ , he thought. He went back to scanning the trees, looking for any sign of movement, but there was none.

“Ogre?” Emma whispered.

“Probably,” he said quietly.

Emma let the sword slide back into its scabbard. “Come on, let's get this over with. I don't think it's far now.”

Killian followed her deeper into the forest, his eyes glancing around looking for trouble. Emma carried the bow and quiver her mother had given her. She wasn't that great of a marksman, but it was better than nothing. A direct hit to the eye was the only way to kill an ogre. Abruptly, Emma came to a stop.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Do you feel that?” she said, as she reached out into the seemingly empty air.

It felt like a frission of energy yet cold. “Aye.”

Emma stepped forward and her hand disappeared. “It's a glamour,” he said. “This must be it.”

Emma pulled her hand back. “That is so weird.”

“Shall we?”

“Now or never, I guess,” Emma shrugged. Then she stepped through it, the magic shimmering in front of him. Killian followed her. On the other side, he saw something he did not expect.

“What is this? _The Secret Garden_?” Emma asked, astonished.

“What?”

Emma turned back to him. “Nevermind. It's a book,” she explained. “But this is...wow.”

There were plants _everywhere_. Neat rows of things growing in the earth, more hanging from free standing trellises. Killian didn't know much about magic, but judging from the way Rumplestiltskin had hidden this place, all the plants were probably magical in some way. For nearly fifty square yards the forest had been cut down to make room for the Crocodile's garden.

“Which one is it?”

Emma looked at a paper Killian had never seen, then back along the rows. The longer they stayed there, the more uneasy Killian got. Hidden by magic or not, there were still ogres out there. And the Crocodile had hidden this place for a reason; gods knew the imp had many enemies. Granted, most of the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest had been transported to Storybrooke. But Killian knew not all of them had. He hadn't wanted to alarm Emma, but they were perilously close to _her_ land. And if anyone – aside from Cora – could find a way to avoid the Crocodile's curse, it was her.

“Here it is!” Emma held up a purple tinted sprig. “Mnemosyne's bramble.”

“Doesn't look like much.”

“Yeah, well, as long as it works, I don't care what it looks like.” Emma put several cuttings from the plant in her pack, then slung it back over her shoulder. “Let's get the hell out of here,” she said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Killian didn't have any argument with that. He turned and headed back for the barrier. He stepped through it and his eyes widened. There were a half dozen armed knights on the other side, all wearing _her_ livery. He tried to step backwards – back into the garden before Emma could follow him – but he was too late. Emma bumped right into his back; Killian groaned inwardly.

“Killian, what...” Emma began, then she saw. “Oh.”

“Swords. On the ground. _Now_ ,” one of the retainers – the commander by the looks of him – growled.

In any other circumstances, Killian would have told him to shove off and taken them all on himself. But there was more at stake than his pride. They'd have to find another way. “Best do as he says, Emma,” he said quietly.

“But Killian...”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then do this for me. I'll explain later.”

Reluctantly, Emma did as he asked. His sword followed hers to the ground. Then he took her hand in his; it was trembling ever so slightly. He squeezed it reassuringly.

“Let's go. My lady will be very interested to see who is trespassing on her land.”

“Your lady?” Emma asked. “Who is that?”

The nameless knight looked at Emma appraisingly; Killian's blood boiled. “The Lady Morgan Le Fay, of course. She'll be very pleased to see you, Hook.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mnemosyne is one of the Greek Muses (Memory).


	8. Chapter 7

Emma walked silently next to Killian, surrounded by knights. She wanted to ask Killian what the hell was going on, but didn't want to give their captors a reason to attack them. Killian was being majorly weird about them, which was unlike him. She'd been shocked when he'd asked her to stand down, expecting them to cut their way out. Emma trusted Killian's judgment, but she sure as hell was getting an explanation the second they were alone.

Ahead of them, Emma saw a dilapidated building. It looked almost like a church, but that didn't make sense. Did it? Emma wracked her brain trying to remember who Morgan Le Fay was. She knew she'd heard the name before but couldn't place it. Slightly more worrisome was how Killian knew her. Emma was under no illusions about him; she knew he could charm the pants off of nearly _anyone_. He had the kind of face that usually had women trailing in his wake. Aside from Milah, Emma had never asked about his history with the opposite sex; it wasn't really any of her business. That didn't stop the jealous feeling that curled in her stomach, however. It was silly, but her body wouldn't obey her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian looking at her. He was tense, but hid it well. Emma could see it in the set of his shoulders, the coldness of his blue eyes. Only someone who knew him well would be able to tell.

“The Lady Morgan is visiting her sister,” the head knight said, calling Emma out of her reverie. “You'll be kept in one of the cells until she returns. Then she'll send for you.”

“Which sister?” Killian asked.

Emma looked askance at him. Was this really the time for small talk? “Not that it's any of your business, pirate, but the Lady Morgan is visiting the Lady Morgause.”

“Well, that's a pity.” Killian began before the knight rounded on him.

“Don't think about talking your way out of this, pirate. We have standing orders to arrest you on sight. If the Lady Morgan wasn't so determined to take your life herself, you'd already be dead. Along with your wench.”

Killian's eyes blazed with barely controlled fury, as he got in the knight's face. “Any of you so much as lay a finger on her and I will _flay you alive,”_ he growled, raising his hook making it glint in the sunlight.

A couple of the knights audibly swallowed, but their leader just smiled. “I'd like to see you try.”

Well, there was a pissing match if Emma had ever seen one. But she was less worried about that than about the fact the Morgan wanted Killian dead. What on earth had he done to her? More importantly, how were they going to get out of this?

Not long after, Emma and Killian were thrown into an earthen cell underneath the building Emma had seen earlier. As they approached the building, Emma could sense the power there. The air felt thicker and warmer, almost like a hot spring. There was a _lot_ of magic about, that much was certain. Emma filed that away for later. If push came to shove, she could try and use magic to free them. The room had no furniture of any kind, just a woolen pallet in one corner. As soon as the door closed behind them, Killian gathered Emma in his arms and held her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, low in her ear.

Emma smiled ruefully as she pulled away. “Fine. What's a little kidnapping compared to taking on a dragon or climbing a beanstalk?”

“I should have expected this,” Killian said. “As soon as I saw where we were I should have said something.”

“Let's not worry about that now. What is _going on_ , Killian? Who is she?”

Instead of answering her, Killian went over to the door and peaked out the small barred window. Looking for a guard, Emma supposed. Satisfied, he came back and gestured for her to sit. Emma lowered herself on to the small woolen pallet, hoping it was cleaner than the dirt floor. Killian settled in next to her, sighing heavily.

“ _She_ is Morgan Le Fay, half sister to King Arthur. I'm assuming your realm has heard of him?”

Emma's eyes widened. “ _King Arthur_? As in Camelot, the Round Table, Merlin? That King Arthur?”

“Aye.”

“Figures. Lancelot was in the sanctuary. Well, it was Cora pretending to be Lancelot anyway.”

“I remember,” Killian said. “I never found out how Cora knew to impersonate him of all people in order to gain your trust.”

Emma shrugged. “I was so confused about everything then. Mary Margaret knew him...from before, I guess. I never asked.”

“And yet you distrusted me from the moment you laid eyes on me,” Killian pointed out.

Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. “First, Lancelot's kind of a big deal where I come from, very famous. And my mother trusted him. Second, you? As a _blacksmith?_ That was one of the worst stories I'd ever heard.”

“Are you saying Captain Hook isn't as famous as Lancelot?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Killian, can we focus? What did you do to this woman? How do you even know her?”

Killian canted his head to the side, as if weighing his words. “When I first returned to the Enchanted Forest from Neverland, I sought her out.”

“Why?”

“There was a rumor that she knew how to kill the Crocodile. It was she who led me to Belle,” Killian replied. Emma could hear the guilt in his voice.

“Let me guess. You made a bargain with her, then the minute you had what you wanted you hightailed it out of this creepy ass place. Leaving Morgan _mightily_ pissed off.”

“Something like that.”

“Any other exes I should know about? Because you sure seemed to get around.”

Killian looked as if she had hit him. “Emma, I didn't...” he began, then raised his head looking her in the eye. “I haven't been with anyone but you since Milah died.”

Emma gulped. Three hundred years. She believed him. “So when we...that night on Leroy's boat...” He nodded. “But you...”

“Didn't just throw you over the table and ravish you?” he smirked. “Oh, I wanted to, love. But you are no ordinary woman, Emma. And I am, after all, a gentleman.” Belying his point, he leaned in and kissed her. Emma kissed him back fervently, remembering that night when she'd finally given in to her attraction to him. It had scared her to death, but she knew it had been right.

Eventually, she pulled away, stroking his stubble covered cheek. “Only you would try to seduce me in a dungeon with a death sentence over our heads.”

“Pirate, love.”

“What happened to being a gentleman?” she teased.

“This could be our last night on earth,” he pointed out.

“That's not funny,” Emma said, seriously.

“No, it's not. And it won't be, I swear to you.”

“We need a plan.”

Killian looked back at the floor. “Morgan's a sorceress, Emma. A powerful one. I had to use the last bit of pixie magic I had appropriated from Neverland to get out of here.”

“So you're saying this is on me.”

“No! You're not taking on Morgan alone, Emma.”

“Don't you think I can?” she asked. “I stood toe to toe with Cora, remember?”

Killian cupped her cheek gently. “I have complete and utter faith in you, love. But Morgan is _ruthless_. And she learned from Rumplestiltskin.”

“Like Cora and Regina? What was he doing, running a Magic Emporium?”

Killian eyed her warily. “I'm serious, Emma. Morgan is not to be trifled with. And there are her guards as well.”

“Yeah, what's up with them anyway? Why didn't we just cut our way through?”

“Because they're unkillable.”

“That's impossible.”

“Morgan did something...unnatural to them. Very black magic. You can incapacitate them briefly, but they just pop back up.”

“How did you get out then?”

“Used pixie magic as a distraction, then ran like the dickens.”

Emma couldn't help her smirk. “Captain Hook _ran?”_

He cocked a brow. “When you meet Morgan, you'll see,” he said finally. “Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, love.”

Emma didn't know what to say to that. If Morgan was a bad as Killian said, then they were kinda screwed. No, she couldn't think like that. They defeated Cora. Emma had slayed Maleficent. They could do this. They just needed some luck. And the magical equivalent of a Mack truck.

 

What was that banging? Emma raised her head, blinking the bleariness out of her eyes. She had fallen asleep on Killian's shoulder; her neck ached. Beside her, Killian was already awake and alert. Had he slept at all?

“Up!” a harsh male voice shouted. “The Lady Morgan has summoned you.”

Killian stood and held out his hand for her. Emma took it and heaved herself into a standing position. She squeezed Killian's hand reassuringly once before letting go. The guard opened the cell door and stood aside as they exited. Two more guards were waiting for them and led them away without preamble. The earthen walls that surrounded them gave way to stone, but it was old and crumbling. Emma wondered again just what this building had been before Morgan had taken possession of it. Beside her, Killian kept his gaze wary and alert. They were only going to get one chance at this half assed plan of theirs; they couldn't afford to give the game away just yet.

Emma swallowed her gasp as they entered what could only have been described as the great hall. Emma watched enough Harry Potter with Henry to know a great hall when she saw one. But this one was in the same terrible shape as the rest of the building. Some of the windows were missing and covered with cloth to keep out the chill. The walls that weren't crumbling looked to hardly support their own weight, let alone the roof. Not that there was much roof to support; one corner was completely caved in and covered in thatch. The hall was lit with a handful of torches, making it look like something out of a bad horror movie. Emma's eyes drifted to the raised dais and got her first look at Morgan Le Fay.

Emma wasn't sure what she had been expecting – warts, missing teeth, maybe a hunchback – but it wasn't the beautiful woman who sat on the throne that looked as if it had been carved out of a tree trunk. She had auburn hair that hung nearly to her waist in soft curls, much like Emma's. A golden band studded with gems circled her head. The deep purple of her dress contrasted nicely with her dark calculating blue eyes. Morgan didn't _look_ crazy, but then the truly crazy ones never did. It wasn't until the sorceress's eyes lit upon Killian that Emma saw the manic gleam. It only lasted for a second, but Emma balled her fists at her sides anyway. There was no way she was going to let that woman hurt him. Killian gave her a warning glance; Emma unclenched her fists. They needed to remain calm; let Morgan think she was the one in control of the situation...until she wasn't.

“I almost didn't believe it when they told me you had returned, Captain,” Morgan announced. Her voice had a lyrical quality that Emma instantly hated. “I even said to my faithful Leon that not even you would be so foolish. And yet, here you are.” Morgan rose from her throne and stepped toward Killian. “And I see you didn't come alone.”

“This is between you and me, Morgan,” Killian said. “Leave her out of it.”

Morgan reached out and ran a long finger along Killian's jaw; Emma's fingers twitched. “I'll be the judge of that, Captain.” Then she looked at Killian quizzically. “There's something different about you.” Morgan waved her hand in front of Killian as if scanning him; Emma had a feeling this would lead to nowhere good. Especially when Morgan smiled triumphantly as she placed a hand on Killian's chest over his heart. “Milah would be so disappointed to find out that she is forgotten so easily,” Morgan said savagely. Then she looked at Emma. “Is it her? Is she the one you've abandoned your love for? I expected better of you, Captain.” The sorceress kept her eyes on Emma the whole time, the disdain evident. “This wench? She's not even pretty.”

_Keep calm, Swan,_ Emma chided herself silently. _Don't let her goad you; it's what she wants._

Killian's face clouded with anger. “Emma's not twisted by hate, Morgan. But I can see how you'd make that mistake.” Morgan's head turned so fast it nearly gave Emma whiplash. The next thing she knew Morgan backhanded Killian across the face, blood trickling out of his mouth.

The sight of Killian bleeding caused Emma's self-control to snap. She balled her fists and took a step forward with only one thought: punch that smug ass grin off Morgan's face. But Morgan merely sighed as if bored. She flicked her wrist and before Emma could take another step, two guards grabbed an arm and held her fast. Emma struggled, but the guards were strong. Emma could feel the magic radiating off them now; Killian was right, Morgan had done _something_ to them.

“So brave,” Morgan said. “Yet so foolish. Tell me, would you die for him? For a faithless pirate?”

Emma looked back at Morgan with pure hate. “He's the most loyal man I've ever met.”

Morgan laughed. “You can't have met many men, my dear. They are – as a sex – completely faithless. I should know,” she said bitterly.

Emma rolled her eyes. Could this woman be more of a drama queen? “If you're going to kill us, Morgan, just get on with it. In fact you'll be doing us a favor since the world is ending and all.”

“The world ending? What is this foolishness, girl?”

“It's true, Morgan,” Killian said. “The Crocodile has unleashed more power than he knows what to do with. And soon it will be coming for us all.”

Morgan's eyes flashed dangerously. Then she flung her arm out and sent Killian barreling into one of the pillars. He hit with a loud thump, his head lolling dangerously. Emma thought he was out cold until magical vines sprang up and held his body to the pillar. Killian thrashed, trying to get free. His hook was caught in a tangle; he couldn't get it loose. Emma was going to need to do something soon, before this entire thing fell apart.

_“Lies!”_ Morgan screamed, the manic fury causing her blue eyes to blaze.

“Oh god, were you in love with him too?” Emma said, disgusted. “Seriously, what is it with that guy?” Then she paused. “Wait, if you loved him then why would you help Killian?” Morgan turned back to Emma, the magic crackling across her palms. Then Emma realized. “He's the one who betrayed you, isn't he? Looks like you and I have more in common than I thought.”

“You're nothing more than the pirate's whore,” Morgan snapped. “I think I'll make him watch as I kill you.”

Emma just grinned. “Actually, I'm a princess. And I'm his _fiancé_ , thank you very much.” Emma closed her eyes for a second and focused. Then she looked over at Killian who nodded. Emma stomped her foot on the guard on her right side. He yelped and let go of her. The other tightened his grip, but Emma was ready for him. She sent a wave of magic down her left arm, shocking the guard like a bolt of lightning. To Emma's surprise, the guard's hand started to melt into a brown lumpy mass. He was nothing more than animated clay, Emma realized. That's how they were alive – with magic – and only magic could truly hurt them. Emma glanced at Killian who looked as shocked as she felt. He'd thought they were human too.

Morgan shrieked in fury and gathered magic in her hand. Emma ducked to the floor and rolled. She'd seen their packs and swords by the door when they came in; she needed to get to them. As she righted herself, Emma grabbed a nearby shield and held it in front of her, deflecting Morgan's magical strike. Much like the fight with Cora, Emma's body seemed to move on automatic pilot. Everything seemed to slow down. Two more strikes against the shield and it splintered in her hand. She shucked it off and grabbed another as she ran, firing back at Morgan randomly. In the chaos, the animated clay guards were slow to react. Emma shocked two of them with magic before reaching the swords. She picked up both and turned around. There was a line of guards between her and Killian. And Morgan stood next to him with her hand hovering over his heart.

Emma almost laughed. What was it with these witchy types and the hearts?

“A valiant effort,” Morgan said. “Give me those and I'll let him live.”

This time Emma did laugh. “No, you won't. But I'd be careful what you wish for, Morgan.”

“Do you seriously think you can challenge me, princess?”

Emma smiled grimly, silently praying to every god she could think of. “I don't think; I know.”

“As you wish.” Morgan slipped her hand into Killian's chest. Emma could feel it inside her own as the sorceress's fingers tightened around it. And yanked. And yanked again.

“Having trouble?” Killian asked smugly.

“But I don't...” Morgan cried, completely bewildered.

“Understand?” Emma said. “Yeah, Cora didn't either.” With that, the same pulse that saved Killian in Wonderland sent Morgan flying. With everyone distracted, Emma ran for Killian hacking through the vines. Once he was on his feet again, he pulled her into a fierce kiss. “You are bloody amazing, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes and handed him his sword. “We're just lucky that little stunt still works.” 

“Bollocks,” he said. “The only luck there is that you love this nasty faithless pirate.”

“Can we do this later?” Emma said. “Kinda busy here.”

Morgan must have been made of sterner stuff than Cora because she was already stirring. Killian nodded at Emma and went to work with his sword and hook. They still needed to hack their way out. Emma sheathed her sword and circled Morgan warily. They hadn't counted on this part; Emma was going to need to improvise. Morgan was only half up, leaning heavily on her elbow when she shot off the first beam. Emma deflected it as she had against Cora. She didn't want to kill Morgan, so Emma kept herself on the defensive, waiting for Killian to give her the all clear.

Three, four, five times Morgan came at her; each time getting more and more frustrated. Emma could feel herself weakening ever so slightly, clearly that heart pulling thing had taken a lot out of her. She was about to say the hell with the crazy witch and find Killian when Morgan sent a fireball directly at Emma. Emma threw up a magical shield at the last second, causing the fireball to glance off and head directly for the thatch roof. Immediately, the fire caught and spread. Thick black smoke began to swirl in the air and Emma started to choke. Morgan flung more magic at her, but Emma merely ducked. The force of it hit one of the support pillars and it began to crumble. Emma screamed for Killian, unsheathed her sword and ran, ducking and slashing. There was a flash of pain on her arm, but Emma ignored it. She could feel the ground under her start to shake as the building became more and more unstable. Emma glanced back once to see Morgan, desperately trying to outrun the collapse in the opposite direction. But with her skirts she wasn't fast enough; one large stone hit the sorceress in the lower back and sent her sprawling. Instinctively, Emma turned around to go after her, when she felt Killian clamp down on her wrist.

“There's nothing you can do for her, love,” he said urgently. “We have to go.”

Emma stared at him for a long second, and then moved. She followed Killian out the main entrance at a run, pausing just long enough to grab their packs. They were only twenty yards away from the door when the rest of the building collapsed with a loud roar.

They stopped and turned to look at the wreckage. “Do you think anyone survived that?” Emma gasped.

“You mean did Morgan survive?” Killian asked. “Aye. Which is why we have to go.” Then he cocked his head at her. “You're bleeding, love.”

“What?” Emma said, distracted.

“There,” he said, pointing at her arm. Emma looked down; the leather sleeve of her jacket was cut, the blood nearly matching the red leather. Emma shrugged out of her jacket and looked at the wound. It was a clean cut; one of the guards must have gotten her as she ran. It didn't look deep, but it stung like a bitch. Killian was already rummaging in his pack for a bandage.

“This is far too familiar, darling,” Killian said, as he once again poured rum on her cut.

“Ow!” Emma cried. “Do you always have to be so dramatic when I get hurt?”

“I do when it's my fault,” he muttered. There was none of the sexy smolder about him this time as he tied the cloth off with his mouth; he was all business.

Emma rolled her eyes; they didn't have time to argue about this. “For the last time, this is not your fault. And _I'm fine_. Stop beating yourself up.”

“You'll need to burn that,” Killian said, gesturing to Emma's jacket. “Morgan could use it to track us once we leave this infernal place.”

So much for her favorite jacket. Knowing that time was short, Emma tossed the jacket into the still burning ruins. As she turned back to find Killian, Emma saw one of the knights that had brought she and Killian in from the forest stumble out of the ruins. At least Emma was pretty sure it was the same one; his armor was blackened and his face burnt. Just as he cleared the smoldering rubble the knight collapsed. Emma ran for him. Killian called after her, but she ignored him. As she knelt down, Emma rolled the knight onto his back. She couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not; up close, his burns were worse that she thought. Emma felt a pang of guilt, but this was not her fault. After long seconds of being absolutely still, Emma realized that the knight was dead. She was about to get up when the knight gasped.

“Oh my god!”

The knight reached out for her, grimacing with the effort. “Is it true?” he croaked.

“What?”

“Rumple – stilt – skin,” he gasped.

“Shush,” Emma said, trying to sooth him. It pained her to see how much pain the knight was in. “Don't talk.”

Killian appeared over her shoulder. “Aye, it's true,” he said. “What of it?”

“Killian!”

Killian ignored her. “I say again, _what of it?”_

“Merlin,” the knight croaked. “You must find Merlin.”

“Why?”

“Only way to stop him.” The knight closed his eyes; his breathing increasingly labored. It was clear he wasn't going to last much longer.

“Who are you?” Emma asked.

“Cara...Caradoc,” the knight managed to say.

Killian reached down and pulled on Caradoc’s blackened livery; a red dragon shown through the soot. “But you're one of Arthur's knights,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Secret...mission,” Caradoc muttered. “No one knows except...Merlin.”

“Merlin glamored you, didn't he?” Emma said. “So that Morgan wouldn't know.”

“Yes. Please, you must go. Merlin will help you.”

Emma shook her head. “We won't just leave you here.”

“I...I die doing my duty to my king, that is all a Knight can ask for. It is a good death.” Then Caradoc closed his eyes and was gone. Emma ran a gentle hand over his burned flesh. Caradoc had used his last moments to help them; she couldn't help but feel a pang at the loss.

Killian placed his hand on her shoulder. “Time to go, love.”

“We should bury him.”

“We should, but there isn't time. Gods know where Morgan disappeared to. We've lingered too long already.”

“But he was trying to help us,” Emma said stubbornly.

“Aye, but we can't spare the time. Tick, tock, Emma.” When she still didn't move, Killian knelt next to her. “Alright, love. We'll bury him. Then we can be off to Camelot.”

“Camelot?”

“He said we should talk to Merlin, yeah? The barmy old wizard is _in_ Camelot, love.”

“Don't tell me. You've been there too.”

“In this case, I only know it by reputation.”

“Really?”

“Aye. Arthur isn’t only famous in your realm, love. How do you think I found out about Morgan in Neverland?”

“Magical telegram?”

“Traveling between worlds is more prevalent than you’ve been led to believe. It’s fairly easy if you know how or know the right people.”

“Or pixies?” Emma asked astutely.

Killian nodded. One day, Emma was going to ask about Neverland and Tinkerbell. Clearly, there was some very complicated history there. But there wasn’t time now; they had a wizard to find.

 

“Tell me again why we couldn’t take the ship?” Emma asked, as she stepped over a large root.

“The castle is landlocked, love. According to the map, we’re going in the right direction.”

“A map you haven’t seen in twenty eight years. You’ll have to forgive me if I seem a _tad_ skeptical.”

“Are you doubting my abilities as a pirate, love?”

“Not doubting,” she replied, “just trying to cover all our bases. We don’t have time to wander aimlessly though the forest.”

Killian couldn’t deny the truth of that so he remained silent. Still, he was fairly certain they were going in the right direction. Mounting a campaign against her brother was part of what Morgan had wanted from him, so he’d had reason to study the layout of the castle and its environs. He’d had no intention of actually helping her – he recognized her unstable nature the moment he met her – and resolved to be on his way the moment he had what he came for. He’d been forced to play along for several days, however. Little did he know how well that knowledge would serve him in the future.

As they walked, the shadows started getting longer. Through gaps in the trees, Killian could see the sun sinking in the west. If they didn’t happen across the castle soon, they would need to make camp. It was a delay they didn’t need. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t hold off on his plan forever.

As they settled in next to the fire, Emma said, “Henry’s gonna be so upset that we’re meeting King Arthur without him.”

Killian found himself grinning. “Aye. Maybe we can bring him back for a visit, yeah?”

“All this traipsing through the woods, nearly getting killed by an evil sorceress…you still miss this place?” Emma asked, frowning.

“It’s not so much missing the _place_ , love. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere without you. But you have to admit, this is a hell of an adventure.”

“Yeah, because I live to get attacked by animated clay and crazy witches.”

“And what was your life like before?” he asked. “Did living in your tiny apartment alone fulfill you? Were you happier then?”

“No, of course not! Killian, I was _miserable._ I always put on a brave face, pretended like nothing could hurt me, that being alone didn’t bother me. But it _did._ Then Henry shows up at my door spouting all this stuff about evil queens and prince charmings and magic. And it sounded crazy; it still does. You don’t know what those first few months were like; you met me after I realized that everything Henry had been telling me was _true._ And while I’ve accepted that, I still don’t know how much I want this magic stuff to affect my life, you know? It only seems to bring bad things.”

Killian understood what she meant, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. He raised her chin with his hook, forcing her to look at him. “ _Only_ bad things?”

Emma flushed. “I didn’t mean you. How could I regret you?” She reached out and took his hand, her ring glinting in the firelight. “I love you, Killian. But look at us. We’re here because Gold is using magic to not only threaten you, but to destroy everything that we love. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want this power that I have. Magic twists people, Killian. Gold, Cora, Regina, Morgan.”

Killian shook his head. “That won’t happen to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you have me. And Henry and your parents. Magic didn’t twist those people, Emma. They all had holes in their hearts, holes they tried to fill with something other than love. Believe me, I know.”

“Because you tried to fill it with vengeance.”

“And then I found _you_ , love. You reminded me of who I used to be. With you, I found myself wanting to be that man again. And now you’ve given me a chance to have those things I never thought I wanted,” he said, stroking her ring with his thumb. “I think a little danger and adventure is a fair trade.”

“You been really bored the last few months, haven’t you?” Emma smirked, before she leaned in to kiss him.

“I could never be bored with you, my love.”

Emma smiled. “I’ll think about it, okay? _After_ we save the world.”

“Fair enough.” With that, they laid down next to the fire to get some sleep. Killian wrapped his arm protectively around Emma’s waist, while checking to make sure their weapons were within easy reach. Satisfied, he drifted off to sleep.

Killian awoke to the sound of hoof beats. There was barely enough light to see; the fire had long since died. The hoof beats got closer; Killian shook Emma awake as he made to stand. He grabbed his sword and handed the other to Emma, who was still blinking sleep out of her eyes.

“Killian, what?” she asked, and then she heard them too. “Oh. I guess running’s out of the question?”

“Aye. Just stay close to me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The riders got closer; Killian could start to make them out. There were four of them, all wearing the bright red dragon of Camelot.  As the knights surrounded them, Killian eyed them warily. “An armed escort to the castle, you shouldn’t have.”

“Killian!” Emma hissed.

“That’s enough, pirate,” one of the knights spat.

Killian groaned. This was going to one of _those_ encounters. “Is this the man you saw?” the same knight asked. The man to his left shrugged. “I can’t tell. It was dark. But the height is about right and whoever he was he had a coat much like that.”

“What’s going on?” Emma asked, sword held high.

“No offense, my…lady,” the first knight said, looking suspiciously at Emma’s unladylike clothes. “But there has been a theft in Camelot; we’ve been charged with finding the culprit.”

“Well, it wasn’t us,” Emma shot back. “We just got here.”

The first knight looked at her curiously. “Here from where, if I may inquire?”

Killian didn’t like the knight’s tone. “That is none of your concern, _mate.”_

“You have no power _here_ , pirate.”

“Hey!” Emma cut in. “We didn’t steal whatever it is that you’re looking for. We’re not even from here – well, we are, but not currently.” Emma shook her head. “We’re from another land and we’re trying to find Merlin. That’s all.”

“Another land, you say?” Emma nodded. “Seize them,” the knight ordered.

“HEY!” Emma shouted. She moved back so that she and Killian were back to back. Both held their swords high; there would be none of this standing down rubbish this time. “Killian?” Emma whispered. “Try not to kill them, okay?”

“You’re trying to take away all my fun, love!” he joked, just as the first sword blow hit him. The knights clearly underestimated them, as they came one at a time. Killian had heard the legends of the Knights of Camelot whilst in Neverland. He was mildly disappointed in the reality, disposing of the first with relative ease. Killian took a chance to glance over his shoulder to see how Emma was faring. He needn’t have bothered; she was fine, slashing and lunging at the slower knight. Killian turned back to face his next attacker. It was the mouthy knight, who caught a glimpse of Killian’s hook for the first time.

_“You.”_

“So you’ve heard of me,” Killian smirked. “Lovely. Shall we?” Killian raised his sword and attacked. The knight’s armor slowed him down, but the man was not without skill. Once, Killian nearly got slashed across the chest, but he parried the blow away just in time. He also tried to keep Emma in sight in case she needed him, which was doing him more harm than good. But Killian couldn’t help but worry about her. Emma was taking on the last knight, her blonde tresses flying wildly and her face flushed from exertion. Emma flashed him a grin, but then her eyes widened in horror.

“Killian!” she screamed.

Killian tore his eyes away just in time; he raised his sword and blocked the knight’s blow. Angry at himself for getting distracted, Killian viciously wrenched his arm around taking the knight’s weapon with it. He kicked the knight in the stomach, toppling the heavier man to the ground.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Emma yelled, as she felled her opponent as well. All four knights were writhing on the ground in pain. She grabbed their packs and dashed for one of the now abandoned horses. Killian followed her, choosing a horse of his own. He hadn’t ridden in centuries, but it came back to him as he settled in the saddle. He kicked the horse’s flanks and the beast obeyed him. Emma – who had had a few lessons with Henry – rode up next to him.

“You and I are going to have words later, Jones.”

Killian grinned at her and led them away from their would-be captors at a gallop.

Traveling by horse was much faster than merely marching through the forest. Only an hour later, they approached the legendary keep. Beside him, Emma reigned up and stared. Killian couldn’t blame her; he was a bit taken with it himself. It looked to be roughly the size of Snow and Charming’s castle, but it was designed to project towering strength and fortitude rather than benevolence and serenity. Several flags emblazoned with the red dragon of Camelot fluttered in the breeze. The two towers Killian could see were crawling with men armed with crossbows. From this distance, it looked more like a fortress than a palace. The castle itself sat up on the slight rise while a strong stone wall lined with battlements surrounded the lower town.

“Just when I think I’m getting used to all this,” Emma muttered.

“Shall we, then, love? Before our friends return?”

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

They rode quickly through the lower town ignoring all the strange looks found on practically every face. It was no wonder, what with Emma’s clothing and his hook. Killian wondered how long it had been since anyone had visited. Clearly, these people had found some protection from the curse and nearly all the other inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest were in Storybrooke. Was there anyone left?

When they reached the portcullis, a guard – a mere boy of sixteen, but the looks of him – challenged them. “Who goes there?”

“Seriously?” Emma countered, climbing off her horse.

“Emma,” Killian warned, following suit. She may have been born a princess, but she hadn’t been raised as one. Proper courtly behavior was completely foreign to her. He turned back to the guard. “Killian Jones and Emma Swan, lad. We’re here to see Merlin.”

The boy actually laughed. “No one just _sees_ Merlin,” he explained.

“Why?” Emma asked.

“Because he’s gone insane or so they say. Hasn’t been seen in ages, not even by the king himself.”

Emma turned to Killian. “You have got to be kidding. We came all this way…”

On the other side of the portcullis another knight appeared. No armor, just spotless livery, chainmail and sword. He had dark brown hair, sky blue eyes and a mischievous smile. Inwardly, Killian groaned. _Not again._ “What’s going on here, Duncan?” the knight asked.

“We’re here to see Merlin,” Emma said, before the boy could reply.

“Is that so?” the knight said, his eyes lighting up as he looked Emma up and down. Killian’s hand instinctively reached for his sword and he narrowed his eyes. “And what would a beautiful lady want to see the dotty old wizard for?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Cool it, buddy. My fiancé’s got a nasty temper,” she said testily, nodding at Killian. “We were told that Merlin could help us with our…problem.”

The knight’s eyes grew serious. “Told by whom?”

“Caradoc,” Killian said.

The knight’s expression darkened. _“Where is he?”_

“It would be easier for us to explain if you let us in,” Emma pointed out. Reluctantly, the knight nodded at Duncan. The boy pulled on the nearby lever and the portcullis rose. As they entered the castle, the knight smiled grimly. “I’m Sir Gawain,” he said. “Welcome to Camelot.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 8

They followed Gawain into the main courtyard, a groom following with their borrowed horses. Emma paused just long enough to snag their packs; she didn’t want to let them out of her sight, not until she knew if these Camelot types could be trusted. At first glance, Gawain seemed nice enough – blatant flirting aside – but Emma had learned the hard way that no one in the Enchanted Forest was quite like how she had pictured them from their stories.

“You have five minutes to explain how you know Caradoc before I call the palace guards on you,” Gawain said.

“Might take a bit more than five minutes,” Emma deadpanned.

“I assure you, my lady, I’m a quick study.” Emma rolled her eyes at the “my lady” bullshit. It was one thing for Killian to call her “princess” – it annoyed her, but she took it for what it had become for them, a term of endearment – but this was just dumb. It didn’t help that Killian was giving Gawain an ill-concealed look of disdain.

“Fine,” Emma retorted. As briefly as she could, she explained getting captured by Morgan, their harrowing escape and Caradoc’s final message. Gawain’s eyes turned from skeptical to sad as she spoke.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Killian reached into his pack. “This enough for you?” he asked, handing Gawain a torn piece of Caradoc’s livery.

Gawain took in from him and closed his eyes. “Stubborn fool. But why was he there?”

“He said it was a secret mission,” Emma said. “Only Merlin knew the hows and whys.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. No one’s seen him in a very long time.”

“Then we have a problem.”

Gawain frowned, then nodded to himself as if making up his mind about something. “We need to talk to the king,” he said. “Come…”

Gawain never got to finish due to the horses that came barreling through the hastily raised portcullis. “Gawain! Arrest those intruders! They attacked us and stole our horses,” the knight from their altercation in the forest yelled as he hopped off his horse.

“What? Is that true?”

“We only attacked you after you tried to falsely arrest us!” Emma exclaimed. But Killian already had his sword out; Emma reached for him, lowering his sword. They did not need to turn this into more than a misunderstanding. “Killian,” she whispered warningly.

“That sod takes one more step closer to you and I _will_ gut him like a fish,” Killian proclaimed.

“You see? Nothing more than a pirate and a thief. They stole Excalibur.”

“What?” Emma exclaimed.

Gawain stepped between Killian and the knight. “Kay, there has to be an explanation.” He held up the torn livery. “They know what happened to Caradoc.”

Kay’s eyes widened in surprise then grew hard. “Of course they do, they _killed him_ , Gawain.”

Emma stared at the three men incredulously, Killian and Kay looking daggers at each other with Gawain standing between them, unsure of who to believe. “You know while the three of you glare at each other like a bunch of jackasses, Rumplestiltskin’s trying to _end the world._ Can we focus, please?”

“What do you know of the Dark One?” Kay asked skeptically.

“Way more than I ever wanted to, believe me. It’s a long story – a _very_ long story – but we need Merlin’s help if we’re going to save this realm – hell, _all_ the realms. I know you don’t know us and have no reason to trust us, but we’re telling the truth.”

Gawain studied her for long seconds. At length, he nodded. “Very well, my lady. You can present your case to the king. Follow me.”

“Gawain…” Kay hedged. “This is a mistake.”

“I’ll take full responsibility for our visitors, Kay. Although, it might be helpful if you left your weapons here?”

“Could be a might difficult there, _mate_ ,” Killian muttered holding up his hook.

Gawain’s eyes widened as if truly seeing Killian for the first time. So Captain Hook wasn’t only famous in her world, Emma mused. They would have to tread carefully. “Killian, just this once could you…” she began.

“Way ahead of you, love,” he said, unscrewing his hook and handing it over. Then he unbuckled his sword and handed it to Gawain. He didn’t look happy about it, but there was no help for it. Emma followed suit and Gawain gave their weapons to the nearby groom with orders to take them to the armory.

As they followed Gawain up the stairs the led into the castle, Emma took Killian’s hand. “Don’t think this is your get out of jail free card, buddy,” she whispered. “We still have to have that little talk about earlier.”

“Love…”

“Not here. I don’t want to fight right now. We’ve got bigger problems.”

“How are you planning on convincing this lot that we’re telling the truth?”

“Well, my mother knew Lancelot, that’s got to count for something, right?”

“Ah, but he’s dead, isn’t he?”

“So Cora said.”

“But you don’t believe her.”

“It’s the only card we’ve got to play, Killian. Unless Merlin shows up to corroborate Caradoc’s story, which seems like a long shot right now.”

“If this doesn’t work, we’re going to have to cut our way out again,” he reminded her.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t like anything that puts you in danger, love.”

“Killian, don’t start.”

“Everything alright back there?” Gawain asked.

“Fine,” Emma assured him. She didn’t miss the way he looked at her either. He just didn’t know when to quit, did he? Emma heard Killian growl faintly and she rolled her eyes. Sure, Gawain was nice looking – all scruff and blue eyes and wavy brown hair – but he was no Killian Jones.

When they arrived at the throne room – after passing through a maze of corridors that Emma noted carefully in case they needed to find their way out again – Gawain had them pause. “The king is firm, but fair. He’ll hear you out, I promise.”

It was then that Emma realized what a risk Gawain was taking. “Thank you, Gawain.”

“If we’re not all dead, you’ll just owe me a drink, yes?” When Killian narrowed his eyes, Gawain chuckled. “You are welcome to join us, Captain.”

“Too right.”

Gawain’s expression turned serious. “Follow me.”

The throne room was large, not quite as big as Morgan’s great hall, but big enough, Emma supposed. Banners embroidered with the red dragon hung from the ceiling at even intervals. Light streamed in from the large windows to the right, with the stone pillars making long shadows on the floor. Courtiers of all kinds milled about, waiting for their summons. And there up on the dais was King Arthur and his queen, Guinevere.

He was younger than Emma had imagined; he looked to be in his early to mid-thirties – although with the curse that was all relative, wasn’t it? Arthur had dirty blonde hair and dark, serious blue eyes. The eyes were his only resemblance to Morgan, however. Unlike Gawain, Arthur was clean shaven; his chiseled features cutting through the light like a knife. But if Arthur was handsome, it paled in comparison to Guinevere. Aside from her mother, Guinevere was probably the most beautiful woman Emma had ever seen. The queen appeared to be around Emma’s age, with coppery red hair that would have hung to her waist had it not been coiled elegantly on her head. Emerald green eyes stared out of her soft oval shaped face and a kind smile graced her lips. Both were dressed in rich fabrics, flattering Arthur’s athletic build and Guinevere’s trim waist and long legs. Neither, interestingly, wore a crown and yet both seemed to command respect with their bearing alone.

To Emma’s surprise, Gawain stepped right up to the dais and whispered in Arthur’s ear. Arthur glanced at them suspiciously, but nodded. He stood and bellowed, “Out!” The hum of chatter stopped immediately as dozens of heads turned to look at their king. When they saw the look on his face, people began to scurry away. Once the room was clear, Arthur stepped down from his throne and stood in front of Emma and Killian.

“Who are you?” the king asked.

Emma glanced at Killian; he nodded encouragingly. “Emma Swan. This is my fiancé, Killian Jones.”

“And I’ll ask you again, _who are you?”_

“I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming – sorry, James,” Emma said, remembering at the last second that David was going by his twin brother’s name before. “You _do_ know who they are, right?”

“They were fighting to overthrow the Evil Queen and King George, Arthur,” Guinevere cut in, stepping down from the dais. “Your mother was reputed to be a great beauty,” she said to Emma. “If you are indeed her child, I can see that the stories about her were true.”

Emma blushed. “She still is, your majesty,” she replied, the courtly address foreign on her tongue.

“She still lives?”

“Yes. But not here, there was a curse,” Emma began and then frowned. “Wait, how much do you know about the curse?”

“The curse the Evil Queen unleashed on the land?” Arthur said. “Too much. Camelot managed to escape it at great cost. But what do you have to do with the curse?”

“She broke it, you over stuffed peacock,” Killian muttered. “She’s the Savior, try and keep up.”

Arthur’s face darkened. “What did you say?”

“Killian, really? Not helping.”

“Just trying to move things along, love.”

Guinevere stepped between her husband and the pirate. “We should hear them out, Arthur. I believe Emma is who she says she is. If she is indeed from the Land Without Magic, then perhaps she knows more about what’s going on and who stole Excalibur.”

Emma blinked in surprise; she had thought that was just Kay being delusional. “Excalibur _was_ stolen? But how?”

“That is something we have been trying to ascertain for some time,” Arthur said darkly.

“No wonder Kay thought it was us,” Killian said.

“Please, let us sit,” Guinevere said, kindly. “I have a feeling this tale could take quite some time.”

  

Arthur, Guinevere and Gawain sat in rapt attention as Emma – with Killian’s help – told their tale. The curse, falling through the portal to the Enchanted Forest, getting home, Cora, Rumplestiltskin, Morgan, the stars, all of it. Well, everything except the personal parts. Emma wasn’t about to proclaim her and Killian’s entire complicated romantic history to complete strangers. Prudently, she didn't tell them about the fact that she had magic or about the beans. Currently, they were safely stowed on the _Jolly Roger_ , but the trustworthiness of their hosts was still at the “to be determined” stage.

“I can't deny that much of what you've said coincides with events here,” Arthur said finally. “But I find it hard to believe that Merlin would send one of my knights to Morgan of all people on a secret mission without informing me.”

“Why's that then?” Killian asked.

Arthur exchanged a glance with Guinevere. “Because Merlin has been in Avalon for over a year. His sanity was the cost of saving Camelot from the Regina's curse. When we discovered him shortly after time started moving again, he was curled in a ball, eyes wide in fear. He could no longer speak with any kind of sense. To see my mentor...my _friend_ that way,” Arthur shook his head. “I did the only thing I could do; I sent him to Avalon in the hope that the High Priestess could treat him, return his sanity. But I have heard nothing since.”

“Do you think Caradoc was making it up?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, Caradoc has always been devoted to me and to Camelot. He is – _was –_ a good man. No, we must find out what is going on.” Arthur turned to Gawain. “Find Percival. Have him, Elyan and two others go to Avalon. It's time for Merlin to return to Camelot.”

“Of course, sire,” Gawain said, standing. “But the Priestess...”

Arthur's eyes darkened. “The Priestess must learn that _I_ rule Camelot, not her. I want no harm to sanctuary, but they must bring Merlin back. Camelot's fate hangs in the balance.”

“Why was Caradoc so certain that Merlin could help us?” Emma asked.

“Because Merlin is the only sorcerer to face off with the Dark One and emerge victorious,” Guinevere explained. She rose. “Come. Until Merlin returns, you'll stay here as our guests. Frieda,” the queen continued, motioning to one of the servants. “Have rooms prepared for the Captain and the princess.”

“Um, we only need one room. If that's alright?” Emma still didn't trust these people; she was letting Killian out of her sight over her dead body.

Guinevere just smiled knowingly. “Of course.”

Emma exchanged a glance with Killian before following the queen. Just before everyone went their separate ways, Gawain called out. “Don't for get that drink!” he yelled, smiling broadly.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sure, Gawain.”

Guinevere glanced back at Killian. “Don't mind Gawain, Captain. He's flirted with most of the women in Camelot at one point or another. Including me.”

“Your husband is very tolerant, your majesty.”

“Yes, well, he and Gawain are old friends. His best friend since Lancelot left us,” she replied a hint of sadness in her voice.

Emma didn't know what to say to that. Knowing what little she did about Arthur and his court, she had a pretty good idea why Lancelot had left. But this wasn't really the time or the place to discuss it. Besides she was tired and dirty from the forest. Guinevere was quiet after that, leading them through the castle at a brisk pace.

“Here we are,” she announced, stopping front of a large wooden door. The queen knocked once and the door opened. The trio stepped through the doorway and Emma was shocked at the size and elegance of the room. A huge king size bed with a canopy was against one wall; two large armchairs covered in green velvet sat in one corner with a large table in the other. The biggest wardrobe Emma had ever seen stood next to the bed. Light streamed in from the the large windows on the far wall, while the remaining three were covered in tapestries.

“This is way too much,” Emma began.

“Nonsense,” Guinevere interjected. “You are our guests. My husband may still be leery about trusting you, but I am confident that you are worthy of our trust. Once Merlin returns, all will be well. Frieda here will see to your needs.”

“A bath would be wonderful right now,” Emma said without thinking. “If it's not too much trouble.”

Frieda was gone before Emma could say another word. She was about to protest when Guinevere laid a hand on her arm. “It's no trouble, my dear. I assume you don't have servants where you come from?”

“No, we pretty much do everything ourselves.”

“One of my duties as queen is look after the well being of everyone who lives and works in the castle. I try to make it a home for _everyone_. Most of them have been here their whole lives. They are treated kindly and well, at my instance.”

“They get paid, though, right?”

Guinevere look surprised. “Why, yes. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, it does.” Emma would just have to think of it as a really ultra swanky hotel. She wasn't used to being waited on hand and foot.

“Well, I'm sure you're exhausted from your journey. Rest. There should be some clothes in the wardrobe. I would very much enjoy it if you joined us for dinner this evening.”

“We'll be there. Thank you for your kindness.”

Guinevere smiled and left. “Gods, I thought she'd never leave,” Killian said.

“You don't like her?” Emma asked. “She's beautiful.”

“Emma, love, she's not even the most beautiful one in this castle.”

“How do you know that? You've barely seen the rest!”

“I don't have to,” he said, stepping closer to her. “You're standing right in front of me.”

It took Emma a second to understand what he meant. Then she blushed. “Don't think flattery's going to win you a reprieve, Killian. I'm still mad at you.”

“What for?”

Was he being deliberately obtuse? “For nearly getting yourself killed back there!” she shot back heatedly. _“What in the hell were you thinking?!”_

“I was _worried_ about you! Is that a crime now?”

“Killian, you taught me how to swordfight for a reason. You can't be there standing over my shoulder all the time. You have to trust me.”

“I do trust you, love. I trust you with my life.”

“But you don't trust me with mine, is that it?”

“Emma...”

“No, Killian. I am not some damsel in distress. You don't need to _rescue_ me. I thought we were past this.” She glared at him stubbornly. “Do you have any idea how I felt seeing you nearly get your head taken off because you were focusing on me?” Killian shook his head. “Panic, Killian. And anger and frustration and my heart in my throat. If you got hurt,” Emma tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, “or killed because of me, I'd never forgive myself. You have to trust me in the tight spots, Killian. That's the only way this can work.” Unbidden, a tear slipped down her cheek. She hated it, but she had to make him understand.

Killian swiped at her tears gently with his thumb. “I didn't mean to imply that you were less than capable, Emma. Truth be told, you were bloody magnificent back there. I'm very proud of you.”

“I have a good teacher.”

“I can't promise that I won't worry. I will try though. I know you can handle yourself, my love. But that urge to protect you is hard to ignore.”

“The best way to protect me is to look after yourself, you know. I need _you_ , not some knight in shining armor.”

“I'm sure I could find some around here though,” he smirked.

Emma shook her head. “Wouldn't suit you. I signed on to marry a pirate, remember?”

Killian grinned. “Aye, that you did.”

“Do you think we've scandalized the castle by insisting on sharing a room?” Emma joked.

Killian laughed. “Probably. But I don't really care what they think,” he said, closing the remaining distance and kissing her gently. They stayed that way – locked in each other's embrace – until there was a knock at the door. Frieda had returned with their bath.

 

 

Killian and Emma stood back as Frieda and the other servants hauled in the large copper tub and buckets of hot steaming water. How long had it been since they bathed? Two days? Three? Killian couldn't remember. As much as he enjoyed the perks of the shower in their apartment, there was something to be said for the simple pleasures of bath. Their task completed, Frieda and the others bowed and took their leave.

“Oh thank god,” Emma muttered.

Killian kissed her temple, then headed over to the door. He turned the key in the lock and pulled on the handle for good measure. Being disturbed while he had Emma naked in the tub was the last thing he wanted.

She was already undressing when he turned around. “We're high enough up that we don't need to close the curtain, right?” she asked.

“We better be,” Killian said as he crossed the room to the window. “I don't want anyone getting this show but me.” He looked out, sure enough they were high enough up that no one could see in.

“Still jealous of Gawain, Captain?” Emma teased, as she divested herself of her shirt.

“Hardly,” he countered, sitting on the bed to take off his boots.

“You heard Guinevere. He does that to everyone.”

“Not everyone is my fiancé,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?” Knowing he was being stupid, Killian elected to remain silent. He didn't want to start another row. He continued to undress, annoyed that his hook hadn't been returned yet. Everything was much harder one handed. Emma, clad in only her underthings, came over and helped him with the laces on his pants. “Hey,” she said softly. “Don't be like that. It would take a lot more than some half-hearted flirting to get me to look twice at anyone else. _Which is never going to happen.”_

Killian brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I meant it, you know. Before. About you being more beautiful than the queen. Because you are.”

Emma blushed. He loved that shy incredulous look she got every time he complimented her. She never believed him; he was fighting an uphill battle with her insecurities, he knew that. But that made him no less determined. One day he'd get her to see what he saw when he looked at her: the strongest, most beautiful and loving woman he'd ever known, a woman far better than he deserved.

“I guess being around new people brings out our possessive streaks, huh?” Emma joked.

“Well, love, nearly everyone back home is either related to you or in love with my mortal enemy, so there's not a lot of choice.”

“Except Ruby.” She pointed out, stripping off her remaining clothes.

Killian gulped. “Nice lass,” he said. “Sharp teeth though.”

Emma smirked at him before pulling his pants down over his hips; they fell to the floor. Killian stepped out of them and pulled Emma to him. He looked into her eyes, all hint of teasing forgotten. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“I love you, too, Killian Jones.” She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily. He kissed her back with equal passion. Reluctantly, he pulled back. “The bath's going to get cold, love.”

“Don't care.”

“But your tired muscles will when you climb into the cold water. There's time enough.”

“You're joining me, right?” she teased, pinning her hair up.

“Of course, darling.”

Killian followed Emma into the tub. He sat down in the hot water, the warmth already beginning to relax him from the danger and tension of the last couple of days. Emma settled down in front of him, her back against his chest.

“Hmm, that feels nice,” Emma murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Aye. Can't get this from your shower.”

“Nope.” They stayed like that for a while, just letting the warmth of the water seep into their sore, tired muscles. It had been an intense couple of days; they were lucky to get this reprieve. Eventually, Emma raised her head. “Do you think everyone's okay? Back home, I mean.”

“Well, love, the world is still spinning, so I think it's safe to say the Crocodile has not made his move yet. If there's a way to stop him in Storybrooke, your parents will find it.”

“I'm so worried about them. We've been gone longer than we thought.”

“No one knows the perils of adventures better than Snow and David, love. They're probably not even expecting us back yet.”

“I hope you're right,” she said, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Hey, none of that now. You wanted me to trust you, yeah? Trust in them, Emma. They'll keep Henry safe and the rest of the town. We'll be back with them soon enough.”

Emma smiled. “Okay.” Then she brushed her wet hand over his face. “We should get you cleaned up, you're filthy.”

“Not to cast aspersions, love, but so are you.”

“And just what are you going to do about that, Captain?”

Killian smirked at her before reaching for the washcloth and soap, sensing an opportunity. He handed her the soap and kept the washcloth for himself. “You're going to have to hold still, love. Can you do that?” he said in a low voice.

Emma shivered, but nodded. Killian wanted to make her forget their troubles, at least for a little while. He was just as worried as she was, but it did no good to dwell on it. They still had each other and for now, it was enough.

“There's a good lass,” he murmured, kissing her neck. Gently, Killian soaped up the washcloth and began rubbing circles on her back. She leaned into his touch, humming softly. He repeated the process down her arms, washing away the dirt and grime of the forest. He tried to ignore how having her this way – naked, warm and wet – affected him, but it was a losing battle. There was only one way this was going to end and they both knew it. Even through the washcloth and soap, her skin tingled under his. As if reading his thoughts, Emma turned around so she was facing him; their gazes caught and locked. Without a word, Emma raised her leg out of the water, giving Killian access. He kept his strokes slow and even, moving to her left leg after finishing the right. When he reached the top of her left thigh, Emma looked at him expectantly, but Killian just smiled knowingly and moved on, despite the fact that it was tormenting him almost as much as it was tormenting her. He moved to her collar, wanting nothing more than to trail his lips in the wake of his hand. He took his time enjoying how Emma squirmed as he washed her breasts; she let out a soft groan when he “accidentally” brushed his thumb over her taut nipple.

“Killian,” she whined.

“Yes, love?” he said, swiping the washcloth lower on her abdomen.

“I hate you.”

“We both know that's a lie.”

“Then stop being a tease,” she said.

“But I'm just trying to get you clean, love,” he said mock seriously.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Turn about is fair play, Captain.”

Killian rose up on his knees and leaned in to nip at her earlobe. “I would expect nothing less, princess,” murmured against her skin.

Emma moaned, wrapping her free arm around his shoulder. Water ran down his back as she captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Killian dropped the washcloth in the water as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. He was so distracted by her lips on his neck that he didn't even notice Emma snatch the washcloth out of the water. She pulled away from him, triumphant.

“Your turn, Captain,” she said, grinning.

“And just what are you planning on doing to me, love?”

“You'll just have to wait and see.”

The way she was looking at him – all heated desire and fierce competitiveness – made him shiver in anticipation. He watched her as she slipped under the water up to her neck, rinsing the suds off her skin. Then she rose up out of the water like a siren, sunlight dancing across her wet skin.

“You're staring, Killian.”

“Aye,” he affirmed, unashamed.

Blush crept over her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes. “Under the water, Captain. Go on.”

He quirked a brow at her, but did as she asked. He lowered himself back into the tub – which was getting cooler by the minute – and ducked his head under the water. Killian broke the surface a second later, pushing his now wet hair out of his eyes.

“Who's staring now, love?” he asked, seeing her watching him intently.

Emma licked her lips, then help up the washcloth. “Stand up.”

Killian stood, splashing water over the edge of the tub. “Turn around.” Again, he did as she bid. He could feel the cloth gliding over his skin, washing away all the muck and dirt. Over his shoulders, down his back. He heard Emma take a deep breath before moving along his backside and down his legs. Ever stroke of the cloth was fire along his skin; his desire for her getting more and more pronounced. He stood as still as he could, but he couldn't resist reaching back covering her soapy hand with his. She squeezed it gently before using it to guide him back around to face her.

“Enjoying yourself?” Emma smirked, raising her eyes to his.

“I have a feeling I'll be enjoying myself much more later on,” he murmured.

“Oh really? Well, if you want me to stop...”

Killian reached out for her hand. “We're not finished here, love.”

“If you have something else you'd rather be doing...”

He tugged on her wrist. “Get back here.”

Emma sighed as if it were a great burden, but she wasn't fooling him. Her blue green eyes were nearly black. He watched her carefully as she resumed washing him. Right arm, then left, careful of the attachment for his hook. He'd never hated the thing more than in that moment. But Emma didn't recoil from it. Seeing his frown, she pressed a kiss to his neck before sliding the washcloth over his chest. As she moved lower, her nails scratched at the course black hair causing Killian to groan. Emma dropped the washcloth and rubbed the soap between her palms. Smirking, her hands slid over his hips. Knowing where she was headed, Killian closed his eyes to bask in the sensation of her soapy slippery fingers ghost over his shaft and lower. She caressed him gently, but with increasing pressure. It was slowly driving him mad.

“Emma, love,” he ground out.

“Hmm?”

“You're going to need to stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I'm going to haul you out of this tub and take you over that table.”

“Not really seeing the downside here.”

“Minx,” he muttered. Killian opened his eyes and yanked Emma the few remaining inches that separated them. He kissed her passionately, tangling his still soapy fingers in her hair. It came undone and tumbled down her back in golden waves. Emma slid her hands along his chest and around his neck before sliding through his wet hair. She tugged on it none too gently, making him growl against her lips. Blindly, he groped for the nearby bucket of clean water. When he found it, he gripped the handle in his fist and lifted it off the floor.

“Careful, love,” he said, as he pushed her away ever so slightly.

“Killian, what?” He held up the bucket and Emma understood. She helped him tip it over their heads, dousing them both with clean water. Spluttering and laughing, Killian dropped the bucket and brushed the water and hair out of his eyes. Then he unceremoniously picked Emma up and climbed out of the tub. Emma screeched in surprise, but clung to him as they crossed the few feet between the tub and the nearby table.

“Now where were we?” Killian asked as he sat her down.

Emma reached down and palmed his aching shaft. “I was right here,” she said, giving it a little squeeze. “But someone interrupted me.”

“Well, that just very bad form,” he whispered in her ear. “Can I make it up to you, love?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something,” she replied, releasing him and pulling him down for another heated kiss.

Without warning, Killian yanked her to the edge of the smooth wooden table. It was the perfect height for what he wanted. He stepped between her legs and rolled his hips into hers once before pulling back and slamming home. Emma let out a sharp cry at the sudden invasion.

“Like that, love?” he said low in her ear.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Do that again.”

Killian settled his hand on her hip to hold her steady before pulling back almost completely and slamming into her again. “Is that what you wanted?”

Her sea green eyes were clouded with lust and a hint of anxiety as she regarded him. “Don't. Stop.”

He didn't normally want to be this rough with her, but if that's what she needed then he would give it to her. “Hold on to me,” he murmured, kissing her ear. Emma wound her legs securely around his waist before kissing him again. She wound her fingers in his wet locks, tugging on it, desperate to get him to move. He obliged her, grunting with the effort. His thighs banged against the table once or twice, but he ignored the pain, wanting only to give Emma exactly what she needed. Killian could feel his own release approaching, but he latched his lips against Emma's pulse point, trying to stave it off. He moved faster, adjusting the angle ever so slightly which made Emma whimper against his neck.

“Killian!” she cried, as her orgasm crashed over her.

Killian shouted incoherently as he thrust one final time and spilled himself inside her. His hips stilled and he clung to her breathing heavily. As he came down from his high, he was forced to lean into Emma; his legs no longer wished to support him. Emma drew lazy circles along his back, as she worked to bring her own breathing under control.

“I love you,” she whispered, so quietly that Killian almost missed it in his haze.

With great effort, he raised his head. “I love you, Emma. Never doubt that.”

She gave him a quick smile. “How do you always know?” she asked.

“Know what, love?”

“What I need.”

“Because we're the same, you and I,” he said softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “We understand each other.”

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him softly.

“You're welcome, my love.”

Emma yawned and Killian chuckled. “Let's get you into bed. Although, you might have to help me, since I can't really feel my legs.”

Emma didn't even have the energy to roll her eyes. She untangled herself from his waist and stood on unsteady legs. Together, they crossed the room to the king size bed. Killian pulled back the duvet and climbed in after Emma.

“Just a nap, now, love. The queen still expects us for dinner.” But Emma never heard him. She was already asleep, poor girl. Killian wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder before snuggling up behind her and falling asleep himself, the stress of the day finally getting the better of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is NOT a crossover, I won't yell at you if you're picturing Eion and Bradley from Merlin as Gawain and Arthur. I'm just as guilty. I'm trying to have little differences, make them more OUAT friendly, if you will. ;)


	10. Chapter 9

The first thing Emma noticed when she woke up was the gnawing hunger in her stomach. When was the last time she'd eaten? The second thing she noticed was that it was dark; their room was only lit by moonlight. What time was it? The third thing she noticed was that Killian was not in the bed with her. Where the hell was he?

The last of those questions was the most easily answered. As Emma swung her legs out of the bed and stood, her eyes were drawn to the only light in the room. There next to the window was Killian. His dark shape stood in stark contrast to the shining moonlight. A pair of linen pants she had never seen before hugged his hips. What was that about? Killian hated wearing things to bed. Silently, Emma padded over to him, snagging the sheet to wrap around herself in the slightly chilled room.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“I didn't mean to wake you, love.”

“Why are you even up? And what time is it?” It suddenly occurred to her that they probably missed dinner, which explained why she was so hungry.

“It's a few hours before sunrise,” he replied, holding up a half eaten apple. “We missed dinner. Slept right through it apparently.”

“Oops. I hope Guinevere isn't too upset. She might be our only ally at the moment.” She paused. “Where did you get that?”

Killian looked over his shoulder. “Basket on the table. Your friend Gawain left it outside our door.”

“How do you know it was Gawain?”

“There's a note inside it.” Emma caught the sarcasm, but ignored it in favor of her growling stomach. She walked over to the table – now dry, along with the floor, Emma noted, blushing – and looked inside. There was a piece of parchment tucked into the basket. Emma pulled it out and angled it toward the bright moonlight.

_My Lady, Please accept this small token of my gratitude. As you surely must be exhausted from your ordeal, I have made your excuses to the queen, never fear. I am looking forward to the pleasure of your company in the morning. You must tell me all about this Land Without Magic. Yours, Gawain_

Emma smiled to herself. Gawain was persistent, that was for sure. He reminded her strongly of Killian; her pirate had been the same when she'd tried to push him away after he'd saved her life from Cora. Still, Gawain was the nicest person they had met so far; Emma had a feeling he was on the level. And she was just as sure that his incessant flirting had more to do now with getting a rise out of Killian than it did her. She tucked the note back inside the basket and grabbed an apple and some bread for herself.

“Are you going to brood all night?” Emma asked, taking a seat at the table with her spoils.

“I do _not_ brood,” he retorted.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Killian sighed dramatically and joined her. He found some cold meat and proceeded to make a sandwich with the rest of the bread. “Why were you awake anyway?” Emma asked.

Killian held up his sandwich. “Same reason as you, I expect. It's been a while since we've eaten, love.”

Emma quirked a brow at him. “And you were going to what? Sneak down to the kitchens or something?”

“You think I can't? I'm a pirate, Emma. Sneaking around is what I do.”

“They already don't trust us, Killian. You sneaking around the castle just would have made it worse.”

“Well, fortunately, we have your friend looking out for us,” he said sarcastically.

Emma glared at him, reaching back into the basket. “Would you give it a rest already? You're not cute.” Her hand brushed up against something metal. Her fingers coiled around it; she'd know that smooth curved steel anywhere. It was Killian's hook. Emma smirked at Killian. “I think,” she said dramatically, holding up his hook, “he likes you better than me.”

Killian snatched it from her and held it up. “I'll be damned. Maybe that pretty boy isn't so useless after all.”

Emma snorted. “You're calling _him_ pretty boy? You clearly haven't looked in a mirror lately.”

Killian laid his hook down and stared at her. “Just what are you saying, love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Killian smirked and got up, standing in front of her. Even in the semi darkness, he had the power to make her knees weak with just one look. “I don't believe I do.”

“I really wish you wouldn't do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing with your face. You're already impossibly gorgeous anyway, then you do that thing, and...”

“You're helpless to resist me?” he teased.

“Something like that.”

Killian smiled, then closed the last few inches to kiss her soundly. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her. Every niggling fear and doubt ebbed away when he held her. He pulled away and picked her up. “Impossibly gorgeous, eh?”

“Your ego just grew three sizes, didn't it?”

“Of course not, love.”

“Are you taking me to bed or what?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

When they awoke for the second time, the sun was shining. Emma blinked against the light until her eyes adjusted. She was curled contentedly in Killian's arms; she always slept better when he was with her. As carefully as she could so as not to disturb him, Emma stretched out beside him, feeling just a slight twinge of soreness. Clearly, the bath and the good night's rest had done their job. Beside her, Killian chuckled, his eyes still closed.

“Do that again, love, and we won't be leaving this bed today.”

“I think our hosts night have a thing or two to say about that.”

Killian grumbled, his eyes opening lazily. “Morning, my love.”

Emma pushed at his shoulder playfully before getting out of the bed, knowing that look in his eye. “Don't even think about it.”

“Bit late for that, darling,” he drawled, looking her up and down.

“Killian, this is serious. We can't spend all day in bed. World in peril, remember?”

Killian frowned. “I am all too aware of that. Can you blame a bloke for wanting a distraction with his lovely lass?”

Emma smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “Later, I promise.” Her stomach rumbled again. “See? Another reason we need to get up.”

Killian sighed and climbed out of the bed. Their clothes were still dirty, so Emma opened the wardrobe to see what she could find. She groaned; it was all dresses. Not the poofy kind she'd feared, but dresses all the same. The only pants she could find would never fit her – they were leather, clearly cut for a man. She tossed those to Killian along with a cream colored linen shirt that was open at the neck. As he dressed, Emma examined the dresses again. They came in a variety of colors – yellow, maroon, blue, green, violet – had plunging necklines and skirts sure to reach her feet. In other words, they were not her. At all. It wasn't that Emma hated dresses; she was just more comfortable in pants. She only dressed up on very special occasions, like her first date with Killian, or her birthday, things like that and certainly, in nothing like these. What the hell was she supposed to do?

“What's wrong, love?” Killian asked.

“Your idea about staying in bed may have had some merit,” she joked.

“What? Why?” he said, standing next to her. “Oh.”

She looked at him. “Help?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Stand back.”

Emma did as he asked, watching him as he examined the options. She hoped he would hurry, she was beginning to get a bit cold. At length, he turned away from the wardrobe carrying the dark blue dress and a garment she didn't recognize over his arm.

“What's that?” she asked.

“It's a corset, love.”

Emma shook her head. “Oh hell no. I am _not_ wearing that.”

“You can't wear the gown without it, darling. It's not how they're made.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Do you really want to me to answer that honestly, love?”

Oh. Yeah, on second thought she _so_ did not want him answering that. Given her reaction to Morgan and Guinevere, it was probably better all around that she live in ignorance. It was just another reminder that Killian was very, very old and had a history. Likely a long one. And one she didn't really want to know.

“Alright, fine. But you're helping me get in that contraption.”

“Of course, my love,” he said softly, trying to lighten the sudden tension. He handed her a pair of satin underwear and laid the gown over the top of one of the chairs. Emma slipped the underwear on, the satin gliding against her skin. Then she looked at Killian expectantly, wondering what came next. He clicked his hook into place and beckoned her. She walked over, coming to a stop in front of him. “Raise your arms, love.” She did as he asked, eying him warily. The corset was black, with silver hooks lining the front. Killian wrapped his arms around her, sliding the corset around her back. She lowered her arms and started doing up the hooks. Killian nodded approvingly. “Turn around; I need to tighten the laces.”

“Not too tight now. I'm gonna need to breathe when you're finished.” She'd seen that sort of thing on TV, laces tied so tight women couldn't breathe. The things women did for fashion were often dumb.

Killian kissed her ear. “I've got you, love.”

Interestingly, Killian's hook was actually really helpful. Emma felt the gentle tugs as he used it to pull the laces snug against her. True to his word, as he moved down her back, Killian pulled the laces so that the satin of the corset was just touching her skin. Emma kept breathing experimentally and felt no discomfort, which surprised her. “All done,” he said against her ear. He stepped around to face her. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and his blues eyes glazed over. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

Seeing him look at her like that...now she could see the appeal. Killian always managed to make her feel sexier than she ever had in her life, but there was something about this...maybe there was something to this princess thing. Just a little.

There was a knock at the door. Emma nearly jumped out of her skin, the moment broken. Cursing under his breath, Killian went to see who it was while Emma ducked behind a screen. A few whispered words and Killian was back. “Best finish getting dressed. Breakfast will be here shortly, then Gawain's coming by to fetch us. He'll want his drink, no doubt.”

With Killian's help, Emma slipped into the midnight blue dress. The full skirt swished against her legs gently; the bodice hugged her waist and cleavage. The top was beaded with sapphires and pearls, with straps that had the option of looping around her upper arms or attaching sleeves. Emma threw the sleeves back in the wardrobe; a tiny part of her felt like rebelling at being forced to wear the damn dress in the first place. They had already dealt a blow to palace propriety anyway, what was one more? Emma found a brush and slid it through her unruly curls, trying to get the knots out. There wasn't much sense it trying to get it to behave in any other way. When she finished Killian was staring at her.

“What?”

“You would have been a beautiful princess, love. The fairest in the land, I'd say.”

Emma scoffed. “I think my mother already has that title.”

Killian pulled the door of the wardrobe out. There was a mirror there Emma hadn't noticed before. “See for yourself.”

Emma rolled here eyes, but looked anyway, her curiosity getting the better of her. She did not expect the beautiful blonde staring back at her. The blue of the dress emphasized the blue in her eyes making them sparkle. Her hair fell in loose curls down her back and framed her face. The corset had brought out her curves, pushing up her cleavage and making the skirt flair at her hips. She didn't look ridiculous at all, much to her shock. This was who she had been born to be; who her mother had dreamed her daughter would grow up to be. Emma stood up a little straighter, turning slightly from side to side. It didn't exactly feel natural, but it didn't feel _un_ natual either. It was just...there.

“Do you believe me now?” Killian asked, standing behind her, his dark head appearing in the mirror over her shoulder.

“No,” Emma said honestly. “This isn't...me. Is it?”

“You are whoever you want to be, Emma. You are the Sheriff. You are the princess. And when we get married, you'll be a pirate as well. I love you, all of you.”

Emma smiled softly. “Is that how that works?”

“How do you think I feel, darling? I'm marrying into royalty. Takes some getting used to, that.”

“I love you, Killian,” she said, turning to kiss him.

They broke apart when someone rapped smartly at the door before opening it. It was Frieda, come with their breakfast. “Captain, Princess,” the girl said as she sat down her tray and curtseying.

“Thanks, Frieda,” Emma said, hoping the girl didn't notice the faint blush Emma could feel climbing her cheeks.

“Forgive me, my lady, but it is a might chilly,” the girl said, eying Emma's sleeveless arms. “I can start a fire for you, if you like.”

Emma hadn't noticed the chill since Killian first saw her in the corset, but thought it was probably a good idea. Poor girl was only trying to be helpful after all. “That would be great. Thank you.” As the girl turned to go, Emma called out to her. “If you could just leave some wood here, we can take care of the fire in the future.”

Frieda looked confused, but nodded. “Very good, my lady.”

As soon as the door closed behind the girl, Killian laughed. “That poor girl doesn't know what to make of you, love.”

“What? She shouldn't have to start a fire, when we can do it ourselves. Do _you_ want them barging in her whenever they think we need something?”

“Definitely not.”

“Let's just hope we're not here very long,” Emma said as she sat down to eat. Both plates were piled high with ham, soft boiled eggs, bread, jam and butter. Definitely one of the most unusual breakfasts Emma had ever had, but everything was good. Emma scrunched her nose up at the light ale that filled her mug. “Seriously? For breakfast?”

“None of that wretched smelling coffee here, sweetheart.”

“That should be a crime,” she said. “If we ever come back, I'm bringing some. This is inhumane.”

“Only if we can bring some tea as well.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him. “See? You've come to appreciate some of my world's comforts too.”

They finished their meal in comfortable silence. Frieda returned and started their fire; the room gradually lost its chill. That task completed, Frieda gathered up their dirty clothes to have them cleaned. Emma only hoped that the girl would be quick about it. She wanted her jeans and jacket back. Frieda promised to have the copper tub removed and their bed made soon.

Emma was cleaning up their breakfast, when there was another knock at the door. Gawain stood on the other side, dressed in simple leather breeches, boots and green tunic. “Good morning, my lady,” he said, bowing slightly. “And might I say you look very beautiful dressed like that.”

“Thanks.” Emma stepped back, allowing the knight to come inside.

“A good morning to you as well, Captain,” Gawain said, nodding at Killian. “Did you get my gift?”

“We did,” Emma said. “Thank you. It was really thoughtful actually. I guess I didn't know how tired we really were. Was the queen upset?”

Gawain laughed. “Not at all. Although, she did insist that I make sure you make it this evening.”

Emma let out a breath, relieved. They really couldn't afford to alienate their possible allies. “I think we can manage that. Right, Killian?”

“Aye.”

“So is that your job now?” Emma asked. “Babysit the visitors?”

Gawain looked puzzled at her phrasing, but shook his head. “No, you're free to come and go as you please. I just thought I could give you the tour. And I am _very_ curious about this Land Without Magic, I will admit.”

“Fair enough. Let me find some shoes and we can take that tour,” Emma replied. Killian continued to glower at Gawain as Emma turned away to find some shoes in the wardrobe. She saw Gawain try to engage Killian in conversation with middling success. Emma purposely rummaged longer than she needed to, trying to give the men a chance to come to some sort of detente. They were going to be here for an undetermined amount of time; it would be nice if Killian could play nice with the locals. She watched them discreetly in the mirror and saw Killian laugh lightly. As she slipped on the shoes she had found, Gawain and Killian shook hands; Killian looking much happier. Thank god.

“Are you ready over there, love?” Killian called.

“Yep! One second!” she replied, smiling to herself. “There. Let's go.” Killian took her hand as they left their room. “What was that about?” she whispered.

“Nothing, darling,” Killian said, cryptically.

“But you like him now, right? Don't lie, Captain,” she teased.

“Aye, he's alright.”

“Good, you could use a friend.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, love?”

Emma squeezed his hand. “Not a chance.”

The trio wandered through the enormous castle most of the morning. Nearly everywhere they went they received strange looks from people. A few took one glance at Killian's hook and deliberately ran off in the other direction. If it bothered him, Killian gave no sign. But it bothered Emma. A lot. She knew all too well what it felt like to be judged, for people to form unfounded opinions about you without so much as speaking to you. She'd had plenty of it while she'd been the poor little orphan girl in the system and more as an ex-con trying to walk the right side of the law. And as much as it bothered her to admit it, she'd been guilty of it where Killian was concerned. When they first met and she'd found out he was _Captain Hook_ – the pirate who'd terrorized her childhood idol, Peter Pan – Emma used that an excuse to keep him at arm's length. The fact that he was working with Cora hadn't helped. But then, on the beanstalk, she'd gotten a glimpse of Killian Jones, the man whose heart had been broken just as hers had been. And seeing that all too knowing look in his eyes had been the beginning, she just hadn't realized it. Even in that brief time, he was the only person she knew who just _got_ her, no questions, no judgment, no expectations. Killian understood _Emma_ and it had scared the life out of her. So she ran.

What if she had kept running? Granted, Killian had made it damn near impossible for her to stay away from him, persistent bastard. But Emma could have run. She could have told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't feel anything for him and left him to his own devices. God knows she had plenty of chances, even after he'd saved her life from Cora. She tried to imagine her life without Killian in it. Sure, she had Mary Margaret, David and Henry, but would that have been enough? Boston!Emma would have thought so. But seeing her parents – how happy they were together – sooner or later, not even her family would have been enough. Lonely was the kindest word for it. It would have made her post Neal decade look like a picnic in comparison. To witness True Love in action and not have it yourself? To see someone else's happy ending and not have your own? That would have been the worst kind of torture. She may be the Savior of Storybrooke, but in all the ways that matter, Killian saved her.

So yeah, judging people was _so_ not cool with her.

“What's the matter, love?” Killian whispered, tugging her to a stop. “You look far away.”

“Nothing,” she said, hurriedly. “I'm fine.” Gawain was chattering away and hadn't even noticed they'd stopped.

“Emma...”

“Doesn't it bother you?” she blurted.

“What?”

“You mean, you haven't noticed? All the strange looks? People avoiding us?”

“Avoiding me, you mean.”

“Well, yeah.”

Killian sighed. “Remember what you said to me on the beanstalk when I said you were afraid to trust me?”

“I said that you must be used to it.”

“The pirate thing.” Emma nodded. “And you were right. Pirates aren't trusted as a general rule. This,” he continued, holding up his hook, “makes it worse. I always had a code though, not that anyone would bloody listen. Mostly because they don't want to. Pirate's an easy target, love.”

“That doesn't mean it's fair.”

“Ah, but who said the world was fair? And I've done things that merit that wariness. I'm in Henry's book for a reason, Emma.”

“I know, Killian. I do. But I know what that's like, people looking down on you for your past. It sucks.”

“Aye, but it doesn't bother me as much anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because you love me. As long as I have you and the lad, people can think what they like. Their opinions don't matter. I know who I am and that's thanks to you.” Killian leaned down and kissed her gently. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too, Killian.”

“There you are,” Gawain exclaimed, rejoining them. “I thought I'd lost you.”

“Sorry. Emma was complaining about her sore feet,” Killian lied. Emma tried not to laugh. Killian was a terrible liar, at least to her.

But Gawain didn't even bat an eye. “Of course! What was I thinking? Come, let's get some lunch. It's a short walk, my lady, I promise.”

“Gawain, maybe you could call me Emma? All this formality _really_ isn't necessary.”

Killian laughed. “You are your father's daughter, love.”

Gawain just smiled mischievously. “Very well, _Emma_. If it's less formality you want, then I have just the place for us to go. If you don't mind the slightly longer walk.”

Emma was going to _kill_ Killian in some not too distant future. But she played along anyway. “It's fine, Gawain. Lead on.”

Gawain led them through the courtyard and down into the lower town. Emma took note of all the modest houses; many of them had some sort of trade attached. There was a _real_ blacksmith working at his forge, a cobbler hunched over a half assembled shoe, an apothecary mixing his remedies and a seamstress working diligently on...something. All very low tech, of course, but these people were really no different from people in her world. Toiling away at jobs they may or may not like to keep a roof over their heads and food on their tables. Children ran along the cobblestone streets, their exasperated parents calling after them. In a weird way, it reminded Emma of Storybrooke: seemingly quiet, normal people just going about their business. It just happened to be in the shadow of the most famous castle of all time.

Gawain pushed open the door to their destination and held it open. Emma glanced up at the wooden shingle – _The Dragon's Breath_ , it read. _That's a hell of a thing to name a bar,_ Emma thought as she stepped inside. Immediately, her nose was assaulted by the smell of stale beer and rum. Beside her, Killian was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“I haven't been in a place like this for _centuries_ ,” he gushed.

Gawain clapped him on the back. “Then we must remedy that immediately. Ned,” he called to the bartender, “three mugs of your best ale!”

“And a bottle of rum!” Killian added.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“What? I _am_ a pirate, my love.”

“Which is something else you must tell me about, Captain,” Gawain said, leading them to the bar.

Emma followed slowly, trying to get her bearings in the unfamiliar room. It was something she'd trained herself to do when she'd gotten out of the system. No matter the situation, it was always best to have an escape route. Not that she needed it here, but old habits were hard to break. She'd carefully cataloged the castle during the tour as well. A dozen wooden tables littered the floor, some square, some rectangular, some circular. It gave the room an uneven, chaotic feel, for unruly patrons no doubt. A fire blazed in the fireplace on the left wall. It was still daylight, so there were only a few candles lit. Most of the light came from the three smallish windows to the right. A half dozen patrons sat at the tables, nodding at Gawain as they crossed the room. The two wooden pillars in the middle of the floor had carvings of dragons from roof to floor. The roof was made of thatch; Emma shuddered thinking of how quickly Morgan's roof caught fire. But this place was old if the faded wood and chipped paint were anything to go by, so they were probably safe.

“Ned, I'd like to introduce you to Captain Killian Jones and Emma Swan. This is their first day in Camelot,” Gawain explained.

“It's a pleasure, Captain, my lady,” Ned said, nodding curtly. The bartender was at least fifty, with graying brown hair and deep set brown eyes. He was a big burly type, which made sense. There were all kinds of drunks and not all of them were pleasant. But Ned seemed friendly enough, if a bit taciturn. “Your usual, Gawain?” he asked.

“Not today, my friend. What does Mary have on today?”

“Bit of stew, I think. We just got in a load of fresh vegetables; she was right eager to use them.”

“Does that sound good to you?” Gawain asked.

“Sure,” Emma said, while Killian nodded. _At least it's not chimera._ Gawain led them over to one of the empty circular tables by the window; the knight even pulled out Emma's chair for her. As they waited, Emma sipped at her ale. This was much better than what she'd had for breakfast. Idly, she wondered if they could smuggle some into castle. Killian was telling Gawain about how he'd won the _Jolly Roger_ when Emma interrupted. “Gawain, how long does it take to get to Avalon?”

“Two days if the weather is kind,” he said, puzzled.

“So that means it'll be at least three more days until Merlin comes back. What are we supposed to do until then?” As kind as Gawain had been, it felt wrong to just be sitting around doing nothing until Merlin returned. And there was no guarantee that the wizard would be any help when he _did_ come back.

Gawain looked at her, deep in thought. He barely blinked when Ned brought their bowls of stew and the bottle of rum. Then the knight brightened. “No one knows more about sorcery than Merlin, however, his library is still here in the castle. Maybe there's something there that could help. If you don't mind reading a bunch of dusty old books, that is.”

“If it gets us answers, then I'm all for it,” Emma assured him. They spent the rest of their lunch chatting about Storybrooke. Gawain was enthralled with learning about cars and movies and phones, all sorts of modern gadgets that Emma mostly took for granted. It reminded her of Henry and how much he would love to be with them right now, talking to a real life Knight of Camelot. _We need to find some answers soon,_ Emma thought as they headed back into the castle. _I miss Henry._

 

As they followed Gawain back into the castle, Killian kept glancing over at Emma. He knew what she was thinking; it was written all over her face. Henry. She missed that boy something fierce. Honestly, Killian did too. This adventure had turned out to be so much more than he had anticipated; Henry would dearly have loved it. But then Killian thought about their close call with Morgan and knew that Henry was safer where he was. Perhaps one day, if Emma were willing, they could bring him to the Enchanted Forest. Emma tried to ignore the signs, but Killian had a feeling that Henry did not truly want to stay in Storybrooke. He devoured Killian's tales of the sea and David's of being a knight. True, Henry was still young, but Killian had never seen a more self assured lad in all his life. If Henry truly wanted something, he went after it, consequences be damned. He'd confided his dream of being a hero – like his mother and grandparents – to Killian months ago; Killian hadn't told Emma, fearful of her reaction. But maybe the time was nearing.

The library was deep in the bowels of the castle. The corridors were lit with torches, casting ominous shadows on the walls. The air got cooler as they descended. “Seems like a strange place for a library,” Emma observed.

“Geoffrey of Monmouth insisted,” Gawain explained. “Something about the cool air being good for the parchment.”

“That explains why Belle always had the air cranked in the library,” Emma said, shivering.

Killian shrugged out of his borrowed jacket and handed it to Emma. “Here, love, take this.” Emma accepted it gratefully.

At the bottom of the staircase was a large set of wooden doors; they were carved with several elaborate depictions of knights on horseback facing off against each other. A dragon hovered above the scene, spewing fire. Gawain caught Killian staring and chuckled. “It's meant to depict the final battle between Arthur's father, Uther, and his rival and vassal, Gorlois. See this?” he continued, pointing to the lower left hand corner. It was a stone; it appeared to have a sword sticking out of it. “The Lady of the Lake declared that only the rightful heir could pull it from the stone. After Uther's death – Arthur was still a child – the king was kept hidden by his guardian, Sir Ector. It wasn't until he was fifteen and the kingdom on the verge of ruin, that Arthur found the sword and pulled it out of the stone.”

“That was Excalibur, right?” Emma asked.

“Yes.”

“How long has it been missing?”

“Almost a week now. Few know; if the people found out that Excalibur were missing – _stolen_ – Arthur is worried about how they would perceive him.”

“Was it really taken by someone from another realm?” Killian asked. “That's gotten rare since the curse.”

“It certainly appeared so,” Gawain said quietly. “I was on the patrol that night. Once the alarm bells sounded, we chased the intruder but he disappeared through a door on the opposite side of a stream. It was most strange.”

“A door, you say?” Killian knew of only one way to travel between realms that used _doors_. “I know who it was.”

“You do?” Emma asked incredulous. “Who?”

“Jefferson.”

“Of course, the _hat_. But why would Jefferson want to steal Excalibur? It doesn't make sense.”

“Unless he were coerced,” Killian said darkly. He'd only met the Hatter a handful of times, including the time Jefferson had opened the portal for he and August to get to Wonderland. He liked to keep to himself most of time, not really one to cause trouble. But he had a weakness: his daughter Grace. And who did they know who prayed on people's weaknesses? “This is the work of the Crocodile.”

“Almost a week ago,” Emma said, almost to herself. “Maybe this has to do with the spell. Isn't that when all the freaky stuff started happening?”

Gawain scowled. “We lost Sir Erec that night. He fell through a chasm that opened after the door disappeared.”

“Is that supposed to happen?” Emma asked, looking at Killian.

“Not as far as I know. Although, if this spell is causing the magical barriers to deteriorate, then it would follow that Jefferson's hat could be affected.”

“I really hate Gold right now,” Emma said. “Why is he doing this? Why can't he just leave everyone alone?”

“Perhaps we'll find some answers inside,” Gawain replied. “Shall we?”

With the help of Geoffrey of Monmouth, the three of them found stacks upon stacks of books pertaining to the Dark One and spells similar to what Rumplestiltskin was trying to do. Most of the books were old with faded ink and yellowing parchment. With the age came the dust; every so often one of them would sneeze. Emma was absorbed in a book on the history of the Dark One; she'd been surprised that Rumplestiltskin was not the first. Killian was reading about the Lady of the Lake and the forging of Excalibur, trying to figure out exactly what the Crocodile could possibly want such a weapon for. Maybe it held some magical properties that its owner was unaware of?

Gawain sat beside him, working just as hard, which was mildly surprising. Wasn't work like this beneath a Knight of the Round Table, especially one as close to the king as Gawain surely was. Shouldn't he be leading a patrol or something? Training other knights and squires, maybe? Killian had gotten past his initial dislike of the man; Gawain's interest in Killian's adventures and making it clear that he meant nothing untoward about his flirting went a long way with that. But still. Like Emma, Killian was still wary of trusting these people fully.

Killian snapped his book closed and got up, searching for another. He saw Gawain follow him out of the corner of his eye. Before Killian could even wonder what the knight was doing, Gawain beckoned him to a dark corner of the library.

“There's something you're not telling me,” Gawain said quietly.

Killian bristled. “No offense, mate, but you haven't exactly given us a real reason to trust you lot yet.”

“You're talking about Kay.”

“He did accuse us of stealing then tried to take us by force,” Killian pointed out.

“He and Arthur were raised together; he's very protective of the King. Finding Excalibur is his charge, one he's taking very seriously. And – don't take this the wrong way, but you _are_ a pirate. Can you really blame him?”

Killian thought about what Emma had said earlier about the strange looks the inhabitants of the castle were giving him. It hadn't bothered him then, but it did now. Was that all the world would ever see him as? Was he condemning Emma and Henry to a life tied to an untrustworthy pirate? “I don't know what you've heard about me, mate, but...”

Gawain raised a hand. “I've lived enough in the world to know that people are not always as they appear, Captain. Look at me, for example. If someone had told me that I would grow up to be a knight of Camelot, I'd have said they were insane.”

“Why?”

“My father was killed fighting for a nobleman; I was seven. I grew up hating the lot of them. I stayed as far away from that life as I could, moving from place to place. Brawling and drinking. Then I met Arthur. He was different; he inspires loyalty, friendship. I would follow him into the very jaws of death if he asked it of me. All of us would. Do you know what it's like to believe in something bigger than yourself?”

Killian looked over his shoulder; he could barely make out Emma sitting at the table, but she was there. _That's_ what he believed in. Killian had lost his faith in love and hope when Milah died. Emma brought it back. So if there was one thing – and only one thing – Killian believed in, he believed in her. “Aye,” he said. “I do.”

Gawain smiled, following Killian's gaze. “She's extraordinary, Captain. I can see why you love her.” When Killian eyed him warily, Gawain shook his head. “Not to worry, any fool can see she's head over heels for you. You're very lucky.”

“I know.”

“I hope that we can be friends. I believe the two of you are telling the truth. The queen does as well. If the Dark One really is concocting a spell to destroy all the realms, we have a common cause, yes?”

“Aye. You're not wrong about there being something else, Gawain. But it's not really my secret to tell,” he explained, thinking back to that moment's indiscretion in the Crocodile's shop. “There's more at stake for us than just the fate of the world. Emma's parents and son are in Storybrooke. She's had a rough life; she's only found them recently due to the curse. It's killing her to be away from them. Trust doesn't come easy, for either of us.”

“Well, then I will just have to earn your trust. I hope you'll give me that chance,” Gawain said earnestly, holding out his hand.

“In that case, perhaps you should start calling me Killian,” Killian replied, taking the knight's hand and shaking it firmly. As they headed back to where Emma sat, Killian nearly tripped on a book that was underfoot. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. He picked the book up and looked it over. It appeared to be one of the newer volumes; the parchment was still white and the illuminations bright and detailed. The title read _Diu Kr_ _ô_ _ne._

“I know that book,” Gawain said. He took it from Killian and opened it, scanning the pages. As he went, a frown appeared on the knight's face. “Who wrote this?” he asked, annoyed. “That's not what happened!”

“What is it?”

Gawain huffed. “Supposedly, it's an account of how I defeated Fimbeus and won the Stone of Giramphiel from him. But this is complete and utter _rubbish_.”

“So you didn't defeat him?” Killian couldn't help but tease. After reading about himself in Henry's book, Killian understood what it was like to have your story be recorded _so wrong._

“Of course I did. But not like _this._ I'd never resort to trickery!,” he said, waving the book in disgust. “I'm the best swordsman, after the King. I can even beat him on a good day.”

“Care to put that reputation to the test?”

Gawain looked at him, aghast. “Against _you?_ Captain Hook?”

“Why not?”

Gawain grinned. “Alright. Tomorrow.” He put the book back on the shelf. “I'm going to have a word with Geoffrey about that.”

“What's that stone do anyway?” Killian asked as they made their way back to where Emma sat.

“The Stone protects the wearer from the fire of a dragon and magic. It's the only one in the world. Fimbeus didn't respect its power, so Arthur dispatched me to relieve him of it.”

“Emma's defeated a dragon,” Killian said proudly.

“Hmmm?” Emma said absently.

“Is that true? A dragon?”

Emma looked up at them, curiously. “Yep. Maleficent. It's not that big a deal. Don't you guys have dragons around every corner?”

Gawain stood there with his mouth open. “You defeated _Maleficent?!”_

Emma blushed. “Um, yeah? Honestly, I got lucky.”

“Didn't sound like luck to me, love.”

“You guys are making _way_ too much of it. And it's not something I'm eager to do again.”

“I'm not sure I could defeat a dragon even with the Stone of Giramphiel,” Gawain said. “Not that I've ever had a chance.”

“Why not? I thought dragon slaying was a thing knights did.”

“There haven't been dragons in Camelot for over a century. The only ones left live high in the mountains to the west. No one goes there; it's a wasteland.”

“Well, let's hope they stay there,” Emma said. She snapped the book closed. “There's nothing here. According to this, the only way to defeat the Dark One is to kill him with that damned dagger. Then _you_ become the Dark One, no thanks.”

“There's still books we haven't looked at,” Gawain said reassuringly. “But it's getting late. I promised the Queen I'd get you both to dinner tonight.”

Gawain led the way once more; this time to the Queen's private apartments. As they went, Killian couldn't help up but take notice to all expensive tapestries and sculptures that littered the corridors. Any one of them would fetch a sizable pouch of gold, if he were still partial to his former profession. Back in Storybrooke, he occasionally would snatch things from Emma or Henry, just to prove that he still could. Emma only half-heartedly attempted to stop him – it was a “bad influence” on Henry, she'd argue – but Killian explained to Henry that one never knew when such skills could come in handy. Killian supposed that since he was officially Emma's deputy now, he'd have to be a bit more circumspect about the petty theft.

“This is where I leave you,” Gawain said, as they came to a stop in front yet another ornate wooden door. He turned to Killian. “Tomorrow morning, Killian? Training ground?” Killian nodded.

“What's going on?” Emma asked.

“The Captain and I have a wager,” Gawain explained.

“Not exactly,” Killian cut in. “More like a friendly contest.”

Emma rolled her eyes, looking exasperatedly at the pair of them. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. _“Men.”_ She turned on her heel and pushed open the door, leaving them alone in the hall.

 

“Did you see the way Guinevere kept looking at us?” Emma asked, when they returned to their room. Killian nodded.

Dinner had been pleasant enough. Guinevere was cordial, asking all kinds of questions about Storybrooke. Killian just supposed the Queen had been just trying to fill the time; Arthur missed the meal due to an emergency Council meeting. Killian noticed the way she'd been looking at them: wistful and if Killian didn't know better, jealous. But what did the Queen of Camelot have to be jealous about?

“I think it was because of Lancelot,” Emma said, trying in vain to remove her gown.

“I'm not following you, love.”

Emma scowled in frustration. “Help me with this?” As Killian helped her with the laces of her gown, Emma continued. “I'm admittedly fuzzy on the details, but from what I can remember, Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot were caught in the this crazy love triangle. Arthur loves Guinevere, but she and Lancelot love each other and Lancelot feels horribly guilty for being in love with the king's wife. Or something like that. In the story in _my_ world, it all ends in a huge tragic pile of adultery, betrayal and death.”

“That sounds like a heartwarming tale.”

“But that's just it, it's _not_. It's like some cautionary tale of not coveting your brother's wife or something. Because of Guinevere and Lancelot's love, Camelot falls and Arthur dies.”

“Well, since the King is still alive, I'm going assume that's not what _actually_ happened.” 

"No kidding. Did Guinevere look jealous to you?” Emma loosened the laces of her gown just enough for her to shimmy out of it. It pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it.

“Aye, she did,” Killian said, trying to refocus on their conversation and not the sight of Emma in nothing but a corset and panties. His gaze fell on Emma's ring. “You think Lancelot is the Queen's True Love.”

“What else makes sense? We have something she doesn't,” Emma said, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “In the story, Lancelot is Mr. Honorable, the best of the best. Guinevere said that he left. What if he left thinking he was protecting her?”

Killian tried to imagine leaving Emma to “protect her” and shook his head. “Then he's a coward.”

Emma smiled softly, settling her arms on his shoulders and clasping her hands behind his neck. “Sometimes fighting isn't always the answer.”

“Fighting is _always_ the answer, love,” he retorted, pulling her close. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“That's why I love you, you know. Because you always fight for me, even when I don't need you to.”

“What happened to fighting not always being the answer?” he teased.

“I just wanted to hear you say it,” Emma replied, unashamed.

Killian leaned in and kissed her with just a hint of passion before pulling away. “I'm here as long as you want me, Emma.”

Emma held up her ring. “This kinda implies that this is a forever kind of thing, Captain.”

“It wasn't something I was sure you wanted, love.”

“Why would you think that?”

Killian shifted uncomfortably in her arms. “We're happy as we are, yeah?” Emma nodded. “I've never been married, Emma. I have no idea how to be a husband.”

“I don't think there's any trick to it; I'd say you're doing a pretty fair job already. This is all new to me too, you know.”

“I know we talked about it once...”

“We weren't ready then, Killian. And not because I doubted how you felt about me. We'd been together for about a nanosecond. In my world, people who get married crazy fast usually don't stay together. I saw plenty of that before I came to Storybrooke. The idea of True Love just didn't exist for me. And I know that we still haven't been together all _that_ long, but I'm not afraid of that anymore. I know you're it for me. I've never been more sure of anything in my life as I am about you,” she declared.

“Do you have any idea just how much I am in love with you?” he asked, gazing into her sea green eyes and brushing a lock of her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I could ask you the same thing. Because I didn't think _anything_ could feel like this. Whenever we're apart – even if it's for something stupid – it feels like part of me is missing. 'I love you' doesn't really begin to cover it,” she replied, cupping his cheek gently.

“Too right,” he said, smiling down at her. Then he let his gaze travel down the length of her. She was beautiful, his Emma. She had a good heart, even believing that the likes of him deserved a second chance. No one was going to take her away from him.

“You're staring again,” Emma observed.

“Well, you do look rather fetching in that.”

“Yeah, I noticed that this morning. But wouldn't you rather have me out of it?” she smirked.

“We'll see,” he whispered low in her ear. Emma's grip on him tightened as he ran his hand down the back of the corset and rained kisses along her throat and collarbone. He was going to have far too much fun with her this night.

 

The next morning, Killian woke with the sun. Emma lay curled in his arms, her back against his chest. She looked so peaceful, free from the worry that he knew deep down still plagued her. He supposed they'd have an another afternoon in the musty castle library. But it was better than doing _nothing_ while they waited for that dottering old fool Merlin to turn up. Killian knew how much Emma hated that; Henry was the same.

He kissed her hair softly, then stretched out his tiredness. The bruise on his thigh twinged slightly and Killian smiled to himself. When Emma had seen it the night before, she'd apologized profusely since she felt that she was responsible. But Killian didn't mind it; it wasn't like it was the first time either of them had gotten bruised or scratched while in the throes of their passion for each other. That in and of it self was an extraordinary thing. He'd never wanted anyone the way he always wanted her. Rough, gentle, slow, fast, it was always wonderful and he never felt more alive than when she came undone for him. They truly were each other's equal in every way.

Unwilling to wake her, Killian quietly got out of the bed and dressed silently. After tugging on his boots, he scribbled a note to her, telling her where he was going. Then he clicked his hook in place and headed down to the training yard, remembering the way Gawain had shown them the day before. The knight was there already, having his sword sharpened.

“I had the armorer do yours last night,” he said, by way of greeting. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Thanks,” Killian replied. “So do we have any rules to this friendly duel?”

“Other than not killing each other?” Gawain laughed. “I wasn't always a knight, remember?”

“Aye, if you killed me, you'd have to face Emma. Lass is a fair swordswoman herself.”

“Did you teach her?”

“I did. But her father's Prince Bloody Charming. She just needed a little fine tuning.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Gawain said, tossing Killian an apple. “But I like you, Killian. I just want to see if the tales they tell about you are true.”

“Your brother knights didn't put on a very good show; let's hope you're better than those clods.”

“Fair enough. Should we wait for Emma?”

“She didn't seem overly intrigued by the idea last night. I think she's afraid I might hurt that pretty face of yours.”

“What if I hurt _your_ face?”

“Then I'd have to hurt you,” Emma said, coming around the corner. Killian looked at Gawain and shrugged. _I told you so_ , he thought. “I still think this is dumb,” Emma continued.

“I thought you were sleeping, lass.”

“Yeah, well, I reached for you and you weren't there. Pretty much ended my sleep. I got dressed and here I am.” She looked rather fetching in the violet gown she was wearing. Very regal, if Killian did say so himself. Emma, however, shifted uncomfortably. “I really need to get my pants back.”

“The Queen probably has something you could wear,” Gawain said, “but it would be such a shame. You look radiant, Emma.”

“Whatever. Can you two just get this idiocy over with?”

“Gladly,” Killian said, drawing his sword. Ten paces away Gawain mirrored him. They circled each other warily, looking for an opening. Killian pretended to tear his eyes away – just for a second – and Gawain lunged at him. In a flash, Killian was parried and spun; their swords clashed together in midair. They went back and forth, trying to gain the upper hand. Killian was fending off Gawain's latest attack – the knight was much stronger than Killian had expected – when out of the corner of his eye he saw Sir Kay and a contingent of palace guards approaching.

“STOP!” Kay shouted. “Stop this, by order of the King!”

Reluctantly, Killian and Gawain lowered their swords. Emma came over to stand beside Killian. “What's going on?” she asked.

“Killian Jones, otherwise known as the infamous pirate Captain Hook,” Kay spat, “you are under arrest in the name of His Majesty King Arthur.”

“WHAT?” Emma shouted. “This makes no sense. Arrested for _what_?”

“Theft. The Stone of Giramphiel is missing from the weapon's vault,” Kay informed them smugly. “I tried to warn you, Gawain. He is nothing more than a thief.”

“You can't arrest Killian,” Emma protested. “You don't have any _proof_.”

“I assure you, my lady, I do. Now I suggest you let me through, or I shall arrest you as well.”

Gawain moved between Killian and Emma and Kay. “There has to be an explanation. Let Kay take him, Emma. I _promise_ you – both of you – that we will figure this out. You have my word. But I need you to trust me. Please.”

Killian looked at Emma. She didn't look any happier about that idea than he did. Every instinct was telling him to fight. But if Rumplestiltskin was to be stopped – if their family was to be saved – they were going to need the help of these people. They couldn't do it alone, not this time. Emma nodded. Killian leaned down and kissed her once, then handed Gawain his sword. “Hold on to this for me.”

As he allowed Kay to lead him away, he heard Emma say to Gawain. “I _will_ stick you with the pointy end of that if they hurt him. You got that?”

“Emma, if this kind of injustice prevails in Camelot, I will let you.”


	11. Chapter 10

“Emma, _wait!”_ Gawain yelled after her.

“No, I'm _tired_ of waiting! It's been _over a day._ They won't even let me see him,” she exclaimed furiously as she stalked down the corridor. Her clothes had been returned to her, so her boots clomped hard against the stone. Since Killian's arrest, Emma hadn't eaten or slept. She'd tried to sleep, but no dice. She didn't know when it had become nearly impossible for her to sleep without Killian next to her, but it had. For so long, she had slept alone. But now not only was she alone, but her other half was down in some dirty dungeon only a few floors below her. It was agony. Worse than when they'd gotten separated by Cora in Wonderland. Emma tried in vain to talk to Arthur – to demand some answers – but he'd avoided her. Now, having been rebuffed by Killian's guards for a third time, Emma had had enough. She was _done_ playing nice with these morons.

Emma barged into Guinevere's private apartment, the door slamming against the wall. Startled at the sound, Guinevere dropped the basket she was carrying. “Emma!” she exclaimed, hand to her heart. “You frightened me. I was just...”

“Save it. Where's Arthur?”

“Emma, I know this is difficult...”

“ _Difficult? Difficult?_ Lady, you have _no idea_ just how difficult this is for me. The man I love – my _fianc_ _é_ – is sitting in a dungeon for something he didn't do,” she said furiously. “I'll be damned if I'm just going to leave him down there to rot. Now either help me or get the hell out of my way.”

The queen held her gaze for long seconds. “Believe it or not, Emma, I was coming to do just that.”

Emma looked at her, nonplussed. “You were?”

“Yes. I, too, know what it is like to have your True Love so close and yet so far.”

_Lancelot._ Emma swallowed, uncomfortable. “Sorry. I forgot...”

Guinevere raised an elegant brow. “How could you know?”

“Um, you – all of you, really – are pretty famous in my world,” Emma said. “They tell stories about you. Not all of them accurate, I'm finding.”

“I see. What about your Captain?” Guinevere asked. “Are the stories about him accurate?”

She didn't need to elaborate, Emma understood. “I know Killian's done some horrible things. I haven't asked for any details, but from everything he _has_ told me, his reputation is well earned. But _he's not that man anymore._ He gave up his revenge for me,” she continued, suddenly perilously close to tears. “He's fought for me when no one else ever has. _I won't lose him.”_ A tear did slip down her cheek then. Emma wiped it away roughly. She didn't have time to fall apart; Killian needed her.

Tentatively, Guinevere stepped closer and gathered Emma in her arms. Emma stiffened, wondering what the queen was playing at, but gradually she began to relax. There was just something motherly about Guinevere and Emma – who had been without a mother for so long – didn't have the strength to resist the comfort the other woman offered. She couldn't stop the tears then, all her anger and frustration and loneliness too much for her to take. Guinevere stroked her back in a motherly fashion. “Hush now, child. I believe you.”

Emma sniffed, trying to bring her emotions under control. “You believed me when I said I was Snow White's daughter too,” she murmured. “Why?”

Guinevere smiled. “Much like you had already heard of me, I had already heard of _you_ , Emma.”

“How? I got away in the wardrobe _minutes_ before the curse hit. My dad almost died getting me there.”

The queen picked up the basket she had dropped earlier. “I was on my way to show you these, so that you would understand that my intentions were genuine. Lancelot begged me to destroy these, but I never could bring myself to do it,” she said sadly. “Foolish – even dangerous – but it's all I have of him now.” When Emma hesitated, Guinevere pressed the basket into her hands. “Please.”

Emma took a hold of the basket absently. Guinevere guided her over to a table – the same table they had all dined at less than two days before – and Emma sat down. She looked into the basket curiously; it was filled to the brim with letters. They had no markings on the outside, but Emma knew who they were from. Lancelot. Carefully, she picked one up and opened it, then another. The looping cursive was occasionally hard to read, but they were unmistakably love letters. Embarrassed, Emma put the letters back. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“No, I assure you, it's alright,” Guinevere said calmly. “You see when Lancelot left – I remember it so clearly. It was very late, most of the castle was asleep. He had come to say goodbye to me earlier, but Arthur and I were hosting emissaries from King George. When I returned and learned of his intention, I tried to stop him. I caught him in the stables. I begged, pleaded with him. I loved him so much. As wrong as it was – _is,_ ” the queen corrected herself, “we could not help it. And we did try.”

“Why did he leave?” Emma asked.

Guinevere smiled sadly. “He could not endure it any longer. He was torn between his love for me and his love and loyalty to Arthur. His nobility! It was the thing I loved best about him, but it was also the thing that drove him away. So to protect me from the prying eyes of the court, Lancelot willingly exiled himself. It was the most painful night of my life.”

“There had to be another way,” Emma argued. “If he truly loved you, he'd have found a way to stay.”

“Can the love be True when it is forbidden?”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again. Guinevere was already married to Arthur and she didn't think divorce was something they did in the Enchanted Forest. But it felt so unfair. What if she'd have been a princess tied to some jerk of a prince _then_ met Killian? She shuddered.

“Please do not judge Lancelot too harshly, my dear. We had talked of running away together, many, many times. But deep down, I knew those plans would come to nothing. Lancelot was loyal to Arthur; they were the closest of friends. And I have a duty to Camelot. Pray you never have to choose between love and duty, Emma.”

“To me, love and duty are the same thing,” Emma said vehemently. “I spent most of my life alone. I didn't get attached to people, kept walls around my heart. But then I found my family. And Killian. I wouldn't give any of them up for the world. I'd find a way.”

Guinevere smiled. “Lancelot was right.”

“About what?”

“You. You wondered how I knew about you. When he left, Lancelot kept in touch with me – discreetly – these are his letters, as I'm sure you've gathered. He told me all about his adventures, including,” the queen said kindly, “meeting a bandit princess named Snow White and her prince.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Lancelot had even gone so far as to marry them in secret, as your grandmother lay dying. It was her final wish to see her son married to his True Love.”

“Wow, that's...crazy.” It seemed hard to believe, but Emma's lie detector told her that Guinevere was telling the truth. She wondered by Mary Margaret had never told her that story.

“Just before they parted ways, Snow entrusted Lancelot with the knowledge that she would have a daughter. He told me that he could picture no better child in the world than one born from True Love. And here you are.”

Ignoring praise she had done nothing to deserve, Emma frowned. “The other night...Killian and I must make you uncomfortable.”

“Nonsense. It gladdens my heart to see how deeply you love each other. Love like that is a rare gift, Emma. It must be celebrated, not hidden.”

Emma doubted she could be as philosophical if she were in the queen's shoes. Suddenly, she remembered Cora. The old bat claimed to have killed Lancelot. Should she tell Guinevere? Probably not, especially since she wasn't even certain Cora had been telling the truth.

“Come, we must find Arthur,” Guinevere said, standing. “This farce has gone on long enough.”

They found Arthur in the Council chamber. He was there with a handful of advisers – including Kay, Emma saw, her anger flaring again – all of whom looked up when they entered. Gawain nodded at her, subtly putting himself between Emma and Kay. Arthur himself stood, sighing heavily. “I know what you're here for, princess,” he said. “But I can't give it to you.”

“Arthur, this is madness,” Guinevere said.

“Is it madness to protect the realm from thieves and pirates?” Kay asked derisively.

“What kind of king locks someone up with no proof?” Emma shot back.

“As I said, my lady, we have all the proof we need.”

“So where is it?” Emma asked, trying to get in the smug knight's face. She'd had just about enough of this jackass. But Gawain shook his head, warning her to back off. She did, reluctantly, realizing that she couldn't do Killian any good if she got locked up as well. “Where I come from a person has the right to face their accuser.”

Kay swallowed, glancing at Arthur. _Had he really been bluffing the whole time?_ There was something off about him, but Emma couldn't put her finger on it. Arthur just looked back at him, confused. “You told me you had a witness, Kay.”

“I...I do, brother.”

“Then go and fetch them, “ Arthur commanded. “The princess is right. She and the Captain have a right to see the evidence against him.”

Reluctantly, Kay did as he was commanded, limping as he left, Emma saw. A few minutes later, he returned with a girl. She was one of the servants, around sixteen with bright red hair and frightened gray eyes. The poor child twisted her plain apron nervously in her hands. Emma instantly felt bad for her. Guinevere smiled kindly at the girl, hoping to put her at ease, but it only made the girl _more_ nervous.

“Go ahead, Marta,” Kay said. “Tell the king what you told me.”

When Marta hesitated, Arthur came around the table and stood in front of her. “It's alright, child,” he said calmly. “If you are telling the truth, no harm will come to you. I promise.”

Marta swallowed and glanced once more at Kay. The knight nodded reassuringly. “I...I...I saw that...that pirate down by the weapon's vault,” the girl said quietly. “My brother, Gareth, wanders down there sometimes when I'm working. My mother's dead; I'm all he has. He's a good lad, I swear. But he...gets bored sometimes. But he never touches nothing! Anyway, I couldn't find him, so I went down there to look for him and I saw something shiny. When I got closer I saw it...that hook. I was so frightened! But he didn't see me. I wasn't sure I should say anything, but the next morning I knew I must. What would Gareth do if I got sacked?”

“Did you see the pirate take the Stone, child?” Guinevere asked.

“No, your majesty. But it was dark.”

“Then how could you be sure it was Killian at all?” Emma asked.

“I told you, I saw the hook.” There was something wrong here, Emma could sense it. It was _too_ convenient.

“You see, princess?” Kay said, smugly. “Your pirate is a liar _and_ a thief.”

Emma glared at the knight. Then she turned back to the girl. “Marta, what time was it?”

Marta looked surprised by the question. “I don't rightly know, my lady. I had just finished in the kitchens.”

_I knew it_ , Emma thought. “Finished cleaning up dinner?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then it _couldn't_ have been Killian you saw. He was with _me_ in our room. We had just come back from dinner with the queen.”

The girl looked frantically at Kay. “But...I _saw_ him. I swear it.”

Emma looked down at her, not unkindly. She knew what it felt like to get duped by magic. “I'm sure you did. But what you saw wasn't the real Killian Jones.”

“Then who was it?” Kay asked.

“Only someone with magic can turn themselves into someone else,” Emma said slowly. “Morgan. Morgan did this.”

“That's impossible, the castle is warded against her,” Arthur said.

“The thing I've learned since all this started is that _nothing_ is impossible,” Emma shot back. “So unless you have an explanation for how Killian could be in two places at once, I'm going to run with this theory.”

“You know an awful lot about magic, my lady,” Kay said suspiciously.

Emma kept her face impassive; she wasn't about to let these people in on her secret. Not now. “When you deal with the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin on a daily basis, you learn fast.”

“Arthur, you know what you must do,” Guinevere said.

“Now wait just a minute,” Kay shouted. “Are you going to believe the word of a stranger over one of your own subjects, brother? That man is a pirate. He's dangerous. And as for _her_ ,” Kay continued looking condescendingly at Emma, “she's....in the thrall of that man, we can't believe anything she says.”

Emma could tell he wanted say something else, something worse. But before she could call him out on it, Guinevere got there first. The Queen stepped forward and slapped Kay across the face, hard. “Emma is a princess of the blood, sir,” she said angrily. “I will not have her insulted while I am queen.”

Kay stood there, rubbing his cheek. Emma could see the red mark there. He glanced hatefully once at Guinevere, then looked at his foster brother, the king. Arthur merely nodded. “My apologies, princess,” Kay muttered.

“You're not forgiven,” Emma said.

“Take Marta back to the kitchens, Kay,” Arthur said. “And do not come back until I call for you.” As the door closed behind them, Arthur turned to Emma. “I'd like to extend my apologies as well, princess. Kay should not have spoken of you in that manner. But he is not wrong about the Captain.”

“ _What?”_ Emma said in disbelief.

“Arthur, you can't mean that,” Guinevere said.

“You have no proof, my love,” he said. “The girl says she saw him. Unless there is proof of sorcery, I am forced to take her at her word. How will it look if I let a known pirate go free under such circumstances? Despite our best efforts, rumors are beginning to spread. I can't afford to appear weak. Not right now.”

“So what happens to Killian?” Emma asked, seeing Gawain slip out from the corner of her eye.

“He will stay in my custody for now,” Arthur said. “But you are free to do what you must. If you can bring me proof that some kind of sorcery is at work – that my sister is truly responsible – then I will set him free. I swear to you on my honor as King.”

“May I see him?” Emma asked, trying not to focus on how unfair all of this was.

“Yes, I did not mean to keep you from him, princess. I am sorry if my guards were a bit overzealous.”

“This is not what Camelot should be, Arthur,” Guinevere warned. “This is not justice.” The Queen placed a hand on Emma's arm. “Come, Emma.”

As soon at they were out of earshot, Emma swore loudly. She almost hoped Kay would come around the next corner so that she could deck him. This was all his fault. “What is Kay's problem?” she shouted into the empty corridor.

“I believe that outburst was directed at me, not you,” Guinevere said quietly.

“At you? Why?”

“I have suspected that Kay knew about Lancelot and myself. He never said anything – he loves Arthur too much for that – but occasionally he would look at me, and I could tell. He is resentful of the influence I have with my husband, always has been.”

“That doesn't mean he should take it out on my fiancé,” Emma retorted.

“I agree, but there is nothing we can do about that now. We must find Arthur the proof he feels he needs. I have something that should help. But you must see to the Captain first. I am sure he misses you just as much as you do him. Go.”

“Why are you helping me?” Emma couldn't help but ask. Her instincts were telling her that Guinevere was on her side, but she still wanted to hear it.

Guinevere smiled. “True love is a rare thing, Emma,” the queen reminded her. “It must be fought for. I did not fight hard enough for mine. I would like to do everything in my power to help you fight for yours. Lancelot would want that.”

Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She hoped her instinct about Cora was right. It would be so tragically unfair if Lancelot was gone for good. “Thank you.”

Emma made her way down to the dungeons; she'd done it often enough in the last twenty four hours that she didn't get lost. Once again, the two guards on duty tried to bar her way. “I have permission this time,” she said loudly. “I literally just saw your stupid king. So I suggest you get the hell out of my way.”

The guards exchanged a look. A figure appeared from behind them. It was Gawain; how he'd beaten her there, Emma didn't know. “Did Arthur say anything else?” he asked, nodding at the guards. They stood aside, letting Emma through.

“Let's just say he's not on my favorite people list right now,” Emma replied. “Where is he?”

“Here, love.”

Emma whirled around; Killian was in the cell at the end of a short corridor. Any thought of decorum or propriety flew out of her head; she ran. It was only about fifty feet but it felt like miles to her. She skidded to a stop in front of the steel bars and wrapped her hands around Killian's one, extending out through the bars. “Are you alright?” she asked breathlessly.

He gave her a half hearted smile. “I'm much better now, darling.” He raised their joined hands up to his mouth and brushed his lips against her hand. It felt like a brand on her skin. She stared hard into his too blue eyes, drinking him in as if she hadn't seen him in years rather than hours. “Gods, I missed you,” he said quietly.

“Me too.” Then she noticed a bruise on his cheek. She raised her left hand and brushed it over the mark. “What did they do to you?”

“That? It's nothing. Kay didn't like it when I told him I didn't know where that sodding stone was.”

Emma wanted to brush her fingers over the bruise and heal him, but she knew she couldn't. Not yet. Instead, Emma turned and glared at Gawain. “Where the hell were you?” she asked angrily. “You were supposed to be watching him!”

“Don't be angry with Gawain, love. I gave back as good as I got.”

Emma remembered the slight limp Kay had earlier. “That was you?” she asked, amused despite herself. “Good. That guy is _really_ getting on my nerves.”

“Kay's only doing his duty, Emma,” Gawain reminded her.

“That's bullshit, and you know it. He's had it out for Killian since we got here. How would you like it if I locked up one of yours on strictly circumstantial evidence?”

“You're not a citizen of Camelot,” the knight said.

“But I _am_ the Sheriff of Storybrooke,” Emma said forcefully. “And the Savior. And I say this crap.”

Gawain's eyebrows shot up. “Sheriff? Really?”

“Aye, mate,” Killian affirmed. “And a damn good one too.”

“Storybrooke sounds like a more fascinating place all the time,” Gawain said in awe.

“Yeah, it's way more progressive than _this_ place.” Emma looked back at the bars separating her and Killian. “Can we open this?”

“What did Arthur say, Emma? What's going on?” Killian asked, as he glanced past her at the guards.

As briefly as she could, she told Killian about Marta and Kay's “evidence.” When she explained her Morgan theory, Gawain nodded in agreement. “It's certainly sounds plausible. And I wouldn't put it past her. She hates Arthur. Using your presence to sow dissension in Camelot is exactly something she would do. I'm afraid you've made a powerful enemy, Emma.”

“I'm not afraid of her,” Emma said. “We just need to get this sorted and get Killian out of here. Merlin will be here soon, then we get out of this godforsaken place. No offense,” Emma continued, seeing the look on Gawain's face.

“None taken,” he said sadly. “I'm just sad that we have not been as welcoming as we should be. Merlin's loss and everything that's happened since...it's been hard. Our ideals are slowly being eroded. I guess I just didn't realize how bad it had become until now.”

“Well, sod the king then,” Killian said, clearly frustrated. “We don't need these people, Emma.”

“Killian! I don't like this any more than you do, but unless you've had an epiphany about how to stop Gold we _have_ to see Merlin. Guinevere says she has something that will get Arthur the proof he needs to let you out of there. You just need to sit tight.”

“And we trust Guinevere now?”

Emma looked at him seriously. “Yeah, I do. She genuinely wants to help, I promise.”

“How do you know?”

Emma glanced at Gawain; she didn't know how much he knew. She didn't want to make things awkward. “I'll explain later, once you're free. Trust me?”

“Of course, love.”

Gawain came over, keys in hand. “Here, I can give you a few minutes. The guard's changing. I'll be just around the corner.”

“Thanks, mate,” Killian said gratefully.

Gawain half smiled. “Just remember we have a duel to finish someday.”

Emma rolled her eyes. But as soon as the steel door swung open, she stepped through it and into Killian's arms. She held him tightly, relieved to be holding him again. The ache in her chest lessened and she felt like she could breathe again for the first time since Killian's arrest.

“I know, love,” Killian whispered, stroking her back with his good hand. “I know.”

Emma raised her head. “When you get out of here, I'm never letting you out of my sight again, you hear me?”

“Might be a bit hard, that.”

“I don't care. If there's one thing this whole ordeal has proven it's that we're better together. It's only been a day and I can't...function. I've become that horrible cliché.”

“You could never be a cliché, love,” Killian said. “It's alright to need people, Emma. I need you too. I've nearly driven poor Gawain round the bend talking about _you.”_

“I'm surprised you've managed to sit still this long honestly.”

“If it were just me, love, I wouldn't have. Trust me, I could be out of here in a blink, if I wanted to.”

“Broken out prison before, huh? Good thing I never tried to lock you up.”

“Oh, I don't know, love. I think that could be a _very_ enjoyable activity.”

Emma felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. It felt good. “When all of this is over, we are taking a very long vacation. I'm all tapped out on adventures.”

Killian's face turned serious. “I'm so sorry, Emma. This is all my fault.”

“How do you figure?”

“My past keeps coming back to haunt us,” he said. “First Rumplestiltskin with this spell, then Morgan. Now Kay hates me simply because I'm a pirate.”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I fell I love with you. What matters is who you are _now_. The past is just that: the _past_. Those other people holding grudges is not your fault. You trusting me to get you out of here the right way proves that.”

“It goes against every instinct I have,” he reminded her.

The corners of Emma's lips quirked up sympathetically. “I know. Mine too. I was locked up for something I didn't do too, remember? But we have responsibilities now. Our family is depending on us. We can't go back to Storybrooke empty handed, not with what's at stake.”

“That knowledge is the only thing keeping me in here,” Killian replied, kissing her forehead. “Being away from you is the worst kind of torture.”

“Preaching to the choir, buddy, believe me,” Emma said, gently stoking his cheekbone with her thumb. She leaned up and kissed him softly. Gradually, the kiss deepened, both of them reluctant to pull away. Killian's good hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place. Emma clutched at the lapels of the jacket he wore, keeping him as close to her as possible. It was almost embarrassing how much had had missed him, missed this. There was a time when it would have frightened her, but no longer. Her life had been so lonely, bland and colorless without him. She wasn't going back to that, not if she had anything to say about it. Vaguely, she heard a sound, but ignored it. She wasn't ready to go. Not yet.

“Emma,” Gawain said quietly. “It's time.”

Emma pulled back, resting her forehead on Killian's. “It'll be alright, love,” he said softly. “I'll see you soon, yeah?”

Emma nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. Being with him again, then having it taken away – even for a little while – hurt. But she had to do this; she could. Killian trusted her, believed in her. She kissed him once more quickly, then tore herself away. Gawain closed the door behind her and locked it. Killian reached out and squeezed her hand once, his eyes full of love and confidence. Emma gave him a tight lipped smile then turned away, letting him go. It was time find Guinevere.

 

Killian didn't know watching her walk away would hurt that much. It had taken all his strength to let her leave the cell. It took even more not to leave with her; strength Killian hadn't even known he possessed. He was so used to being selfish, worrying only about himself. But Emma was right; Killian had responsibilities now. People trusted him, relied on him. Emma, Henry, Snow, David. He had a _family._ It was something he hadn't thought he wanted, but now that he had it, he wasn't letting it go.

“If the Queen says she can help, then Emma is in good hands,” Gawain said.

“You'll have to forgive me, if I remain a little skeptical, mate.”

Gawain flinched. “We deserve that. It wasn't always like this.”

Killian sat on his cot. “Sorry, Gawain. I didn't mean you.”

“Is it hard?” Gawain asked. “Letting her leave like that?”

Killian sighed. “Harder than you can possibly imagine. Word of advice, mate. Don't fall in love.”

Gawain looked at him, confused. “Why? You two seem happy together.” 

Killian smiled ruefully. “We are. I never thought I could be that happy again, not after...” he trailed off, reluctant to talk about Milah. “But it's also hard. There's a price.”

“What's that?”

“If you'd ever been in love, you'd already know the answer to that.”

“Humor me.”

“The ones you love can be used against you. It's the reason we're even here at all. The Crocodile – Rumplestiltskin – threatened my life to get Emma to do what he wanted. I wasn't about to let her come here alone, so here we are. One part of my past collided with another part and now Emma is caught in the middle.”

“Seems to me you're not giving Emma enough credit, Killian. Granted, I haven't known her long, but she's not one to give up easily. And she obviously loves you. You should have heard her confronting Arthur. She passionately came to your defense.”

“She shouldn't have to,” Killian argued.

“Would you do the same for her?”

“Aye,” he said without hesitation.

“Then why do you question why she would for you?”

“Because I don't deserve her,” he said, holding up his hookless arm.

“Life often gives us things we don't feel we've earned, good and bad. It's how you deal with that, that makes you who you are.”

“What did you get?” Killian asked astutely.

Gawain smiled, and pulled at his knight's cloak. “Are you kidding? Arthur's trust. I'm the last person that should be a knight, yet here I stand.”

“You acquitted yourself pretty well, I think,” Killian said, thinking back to their interrupted duel.

“That's quite the compliment coming from you.”

“I still would have beaten you.”

“We'll see, Captain. One day, we'll see.”

It was getting late; the shadows were getting darker in his cell. The lone barred window showed the last of the sun passing under the horizon. Gawain left earlier, needing to attend to some of his duties that had gotten neglected over the last couple of days. Killian missed him. The knight was good company, eager to listen. Since Killian was a champion storyteller, that worked well. And it had kept him from going completely daft while being separated from Emma. It was still agony, but a slightly more bearable agony.

But the longer he stayed in that cell, the angrier he got. Anger at Rumplestiltskin, anger at Morgan, anger at Kay, but mostly anger at himself. He hated that Emma was in the middle of this. He hated that she was risking herself for him. And he hated that he was too selfish to walk away. But he needed her too much. Killian had spent three hundred years angry, bitter and alone, living only for vengeance. Now he had something else to live for; it wasn't anything that he'd been looking for, but that was usually the way of things. He hadn't been looking for Milah either and he wouldn't have given up his time with her for anything. She – in a roundabout way – led him to Emma. In so many ways, looking at her was like looking in a mirror. Emma embodied everything he'd long since given up on – and some things he hadn't known he wanted. For some reason, she believed in him. He couldn't give in to his anger; Emma needed him to be stronger than that. Their family needed him to be stronger than that.

Eventually, he laid down on the cot, but sleep did not come. It couldn't, not with Emma so far away and doing hell knew what to get the proof that Arthur needed. He already spent the previous night concocting schemes to get out of his cell, useful if matters came to that. He really hoped it didn't. Killian didn't think his new friendship with Gawain would last if he and Emma had to cut their way out of the castle. And they still needed to talk to Merlin. If that barmy old man had the information they needed to stop Rumplestiltskin, then all this nonsense would at least be worth it. Now that Killian was certain that Emma wanted the same things he did, Killian was eager to get this over with so they could start their life together properly.

He was contemplating how to set up a proper wedding ceremony on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ when he heard voices. The poor sods who'd drawn night duty were arguing with a familiar voice. Killian sat up and peered into the darkness. A torch blazed forth and sure enough, Gawain was carrying it.

“Bloody hell, mate!” Killian said harshly, partially blinded by the light. “Watch where you're putting that!”

“I'm not your mate, pirate,” Gawain said, putting a finger to his lips. Killian bit back his retort, suspecting that something was going on.

He came closer to the bars. “What?” he whispered.

“Emma found proof. It _was_ Morgan. But Emma has reason to believe she's still in the castle. We came up with a plan to – what was it Emma called it? – smoke her out.”

“Does this plan involve getting me out of this infernal cell?”

Gawain nodded, whispering the plan quickly. Killian was both impressed and proud. His Emma was a pirate as sure as he breathed.

Ten minutes later, Killian found himself being pushed roughly into the Great Hall by Gawain. To add to the effect, he stumbled, nearly loosing his balance. Warily, Killian straightened and walked the length of the hall, glancing around at the gathered spectators, many of them dressed for sleep. If Emma was right, Morgan was around _somewhere_. Killian had no doubt that the sorceress was there; much like her mentor Rumplestiltskin, Morgan loved to attend to her enemies personally. She had wanted to kill Killian herself before; she'd want to be there to witness his demise. But she could be _anyone._ There was no way to know until one of them got close enough to her; Emma and Killian's connection would take care of the rest.

Arthur sat on his throne in his nightclothes; he looked exhausted. If Killian wasn't so annoyed with the king, he could have felt sorry for him. He couldn't imagine the pressure Arthur was under. Next to him Guinevere sat regally in a gown of black brocade. They were surrounded by several of Camelot's knights – including Kay – and an anxious looking Emma. When he locked eyes with hers, Emma pushed her way past the human wall that separated them and threw her arms him, nearly sending them both to the floor in a heap.

“Easy, love,” Killian murmured, waiting to return her embrace, but unable to due to his arms being tied behind his back. Gawain hadn't tied them too tight, but the charade needed to be maintained for a while longer.

“Everything's ready,” she whispered, clutching him to her fiercely. Her desperation to get him free was _not_ an act, he knew. But when she pulled back ever so slightly, her eyes were clear. No tears, no weeping. His brave, brave lass. Her anxiety was gone; she looked at him with such faith and love. It nearly staggered him. Gently, she stroked his cheek, smiling tightly as Killian felt something slip into his pocket. It was all he could do not to smile. Emma had returned his hook.

“As you can see, princess, the Captain is perfectly safe,” Arthur drawled. He _sounded_ tired, but Killian could see the spark of alertness in his eyes now. It seemed they were going to find out just how good of an actor the King of Camelot was.

Emma turned and faced Arthur. “Considering you can't even guard your possessions properly, you'll have to forgive my skepticism,” she shot back.

To Arthur's right, Kay growled. Arthur laid a hand on the knight's arm. “Be at peace, brother,” the king said. “This will be over soon enough.”

“And just what this, my lord?” Killian said, sarcasm dripping. “I don't know where your sodding stone is.”

“ _Liar.”_ Kay took a step forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Trust me, Kay, he's _not_ lying,” Emma said.

“I _don't_ trust you, Princess, that's the rub,” Kay continued, nodding at the other knights. As one, they moved off the dais and surrounded Emma and Killian. “You're a stranger here, a stranger from another land. And you've associated with this... _filth_ ,” the knight spat. “A hot headed, untrustworthy _pirate_.”

Killian glared daggers at Kay. “A pirate I may be, but I'm a hell of lot more trustworthy than you lot. We've been nothing but forthcoming and this is how we get treated. Bugger that.”

Kay smiled cruelly. There was something familiar about it. “Ah, but have you really, pirate? I think not.”

“What are you on about Kay?” Arthur asked. Kay didn't respond; he stepped through the surrounding knights and faced Emma. Killian got a _very_ bad feeling; this wasn't what was supposed to happen. A bit of bluster, trotting out of witnesses and proof. Then when Morgan saw that she wouldn't get her prize, she would lash out and the game would be up. Killian looked around the room; the spectators stared at Kay avidly, waiting with baited breath. Killian saw Emma plant herself firmly between him and Kay; Guinevere rose from her seat, her eyes worried.

“Why don't you tell them, princess?” Kay drawled. The manic gleam in his eyes was all the warning they got. Kay raised his hand and shot a bolt at Emma. At the last second, she raised a shield and sent the bolt crashing into the ceiling. The whole castle shook with the force of it.

“She's a sorceress,” Gawain breathed behind Killian.

Killian didn't have time for Gawain's gawking; he tugged his arms free and reached into his pocket for his hook. Quickly, he reattached it. “Of course she's bloody magical, you dolt,” he said angrily, the situation going to hell around them. “She's True Love personified. Now are you gonna help me catch the crazy one or not?”

Gawain looked past Killian at Arthur; amid the chaos the king nodded, drawing his sword. Guinevere was at her feet, pulling something out from behind her throne. It was a sword – Killian's sword in point of fact. “Captain!” she called, tossing the sword expertly. He caught it by the hilt, grinning. He and Gawain stood back to back as the knights closed in on them. They all looked oddly blank, like they were not aware of what was going on.

“Morgan,” Killian breathed. She'd done something to them. Arthur tried to call them off, to no avail. They refused to heed their king. “Looks like Morgan did something to your mates, Gawain,” Killian called.

Gawain's face darkened. “Where is she?”

Killian looked around, suddenly filled with dread that he'd lost track of Emma and Morgan. He was supposed to protect her, damn it. Then he saw them. Morgan had dropped the Kay facade, dueling Emma as herself. Somehow they'd slipped through the circle of knights and were ducking around the pillars, magic flying in all directions. Emma seemed to be holding her own, but her jacket was torn and was blood at her hairline. Killian's anger flared at seeing Emma bleeding. He would make Morgan pay for daring to lay a finger on Emma.

As if reading his mind, Morgan locked gazes with him from across the room. She grinned wickedly and Killian could hear her voice in his head. _Your turn will come, Captain, never fear._ He growled and he saw Emma's eyes go wide. She'd heard Morgan too. But the sorceress gave no sign that she knew she'd been overheard. Instead, she called out to the zombie knights and ordered them to attack. Her eyes blazed and a bright orange light flashed at her throat. Could that be what she was using to control the knights?

Killian didn't get the chance to examine his theory; he and Gawain were inundated by the zombie horde. Blades clanged together and sprang apart with deadly accuracy. Killian had no idea who he was fighting, but it didn't matter. Whoever it was, it was clear that they were completely under Morgan's spell and unable to do anything but fight mindlessly.

“Lanvel,” Gawain gritted out somewhere to Killian's left. “It's _me_ , it's Gawain! Stop this!”

“Don't think that's gonna work, mate,” Killian shouted, slashing his current opponent across the chest. The knight fell in a heap.

“Watch it, Killian!” Gawain shouted. “They're still knights of Camelot, whatever Morgan did to them.”

“Are you _daft?!_ ” Killian screamed. “We don't have time to pussy foot around, you sod!” They were fighting for their lives – for _Emma's_ life – and that wanker wanted Killian to be _nice?_ Bugger that. He punched another knight in the face, sidestepping as the man went down.

“The Captain is right, Gawain,” Arthur called. Killian nearly whirled around on surprise; he didn't know how the King had fought his way through to them. “This is not the time to be kind.”

“But sire,” Gawain protested.

“That's an order, Gawain,” Arthur said grimly, fighting one of his own. Killian's respect for the King rose a thousandfold. Maybe he'd misjudged him. He didn't have time to dwell on that though; there were more knights coming all the time. Did Morgan have _all_ of them under her spell? Killian wondered. “We can't keep this up forever, Captain,” Arthur shouted.

“I know,” Killian said grimly, trying to fight and look for Emma at the same time. They needed to get that broach away from Morgan. Then Killian could run his sword through the lady herself. One way or another, he was ending this. He heard Emma scream in fury behind him. Quickly, he slashed his opponent across the stomach and turned around. What he saw nearly frightened him to death.

Emma – heedless of the consequences – charged at Morgan, barreling into the sorceress shoulder first. Morgan, unprepared for Emma to _physically_ attack her, grunted in shock and got lifted off her feet. Emma flipped her over and slammed Morgan onto the hard stone floor. The sorceress grunted in pain, then went slack. Emma kicked her in the gut for good measure, then looked up. Killian was moving before his brain registered the command. He ran for Emma, hacking and slashing his way through the remaining knights.

“The broach,” he screamed at Emma. “Get the broach!” Emma looked confused for about half a second then she nodded. She bent over Morgan's still form and tore the broach from her throat. “Destroy it!”

Emma dropped the broach on the ground and stepped on it with all her might. Like glass, it shattered under her heel; a wave of magic was released from it, knocking Killian off his feet. He hit the ground hard; the wind flew out of his chest in a rush. Dazed, he struggled to sit up. Around him, the zombie knights collapsed; Morgan's control of them broken. Through it all, Killian had only one thought in his head: _Get to Emma._ Lungs burning with the effort, Killian forced himself up and looked around. He found Emma on the ground, gasping for breath. She clutched at her throat and Killian's blood ran cold. A vision of Emma tied to a tree with a vengeful, murderous Cora advancing on her swam across his eyes.

Morgan raised herself up on one elbow, her face contorted in fury. The same murderous glint that Cora had flashed in the sorceress' eyes. Morgan clenched her fist tighter and Emma's eyes watered as the lack of air and pain threatened to overwhelm her. From then on, the scene seemed to move in slow motion. Morgan rose to her feet and advanced on Emma.

“I may not be able to talk your heart, princess,” she spat, “but I can still take your life.”

Killian screamed and charged. Without looking, Morgan waved behind her, sending Killian sprawling. A fury he hadn't known he possessed filled him as he got to his feet once more. In his chest, he could _feel_ Emma's heart start to weaken. She didn't have much time left. It faltered once, twice. Killian charged again. This time, Arthur and Gawain were beside him, swords drawn. Killian had lost his sword at some point, but it didn't matter. He would plunge his hook into Morgan's chest if it was the last thing he did. Morgan tried sending another wave of magic at them, but miraculously it seemed to bounce back on itself. Killian looked around and saw Guinevere holding what could only be the Stone of Giramphiel in her hand. _It deflects magic_ , Killian thought vaguely.

Their path now clear, the king, the knight and the pirate charged at the sorceress. The beginnings of fear flickered in her eyes. But then she gave one final squeeze of her fist and Killian felt Emma's heart _stop_. It was like a whole had opened up in his chest and a cold block of ice had settled there. Wildly, his eyes went to Emma; she was motionless on the floor.

He saw red, screaming his throat raw in his rage. Killian ran faster, raising his hook when he got within striking distance. He didn't think – Emma was _dead_ , he wasn't _fast enough_ – he just yanked his hook down as hard as he could across Morgan's back. Thick red blood blossomed, soaking into the sorceress's gown. Killian tackled her to the ground intent on finishing the job. As he raised his hook one last time, a flash blinded him and he felt the swirl of magic whisk Morgan away. Sparks flew as his hook came into contact with the stone floor. Heedlessly, Killian continued to stab at the floor, his grief and rage uncontrollable. Emma was dead and it was all his fault. Morgan was after _him_ , not her. Hot tears scalded down his cheeks, his vision a blur. Slowly, his arm came to stop as huge wracking sobs shook him. _Emma was dead, oh gods, Emma's dead._

He felt something brush against his fingertips, but he shook it off angrily. He couldn't stand anyone touching him. Emma was dead. Didn't they know that? He didn't want _comfort_. All he wanted was to bury his hook deep into his own chest and end his torment. Right after he ended Morgan's miserable life. She was going to _pay_.

“ _Killian.”_

Gods, now his subconscious was playing a sick joke on him. It sounded like Emma. He knew he'd made a promise to her, to be better, to not let the darkness overwhelm him. But she was _dead_. Surely, she couldn't expect her death to go unavenged. But there it was again, that voice calling his name.

“Leave me be,” he muttered. “Just _leave me.”_

“Look at me, Killian,” the voice croaked. Killian felt fingers tangle with his, but he ignored it. For one wild second, he imagined it _was_ Emma's fingers twining with his. But no, he'd seen her die. _He felt it_. Killian raised his hook to his chest and pressed it against his own heart. The ruined tip scratched at his skin, making it bleed, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything.

“Damn stubborn pirate,” the voice muttered, grabbing at his hook. “Would you open your damn eyes and _look at me_!”

Reluctantly, Killian opened his eyes. He blinked away his tears and tried to focus. Blonde hair filled his vision, sea green eyes locked with his. His breath flew out in a rush. “Emma?” he whispered.

Her lips quirked up and she nodded, wincing in pain. “Yeah, Killian, it's me. I promise.”

He wanted to believe her; he did. But he'd been through this before. He'd had horrible waking visions of Milah as well. He couldn't trust that she was real; that she was _alive_. Emma reached out and brushed her hand over his heart. “Hey,” she whispered, “if you don't believe your eyes, believe _your heart._ I'm right here.”

Killian closed his eyes and focused. That's when he felt it. It was like two hearts beating in his chest, rather than one. The block of ice was gone and he could breathe. It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. _“Emma,”_ he cried, reaching out blindly and crushing her against his chest. He rocked her slowly, inhaling her scent, tangling his fingers in her sweat soaked hair. Emma clutched at him just as much, wrapping her arms around and holding him tight, like he was going to disappear.

“I love you,” he repeated over and over into her hair. “Gods, I love you so much.”

“I know, Killian, I know,” she whispered back. “I'm so sorry.”

That got him to raise his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling. I'm the one who's sorry. I wasn't fast enough.”

“Would you stop? There wasn't anything you could have done. I'm fine now.”

Killian shook his head. “You are _not_ fine,” he argued, brushing his fingertips across her throat.

“I've had worse.”

“Now you sound like me,” Killian said, smiling weakly.

“Well, you did say once that I'd make a hell of a pirate.”

“This was not what I had in mind.”

Emma smirked. “Then what _did_ you have in mind?” she asked cheekily.

“When you're better, I'll show you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I'm telling you, I'm fine.”

“Does this count as fine?” he countered, touching her blood covered hairline.

Emma winced and hissed. “Ow.” Then she glared at him. “I'm not the only one covered in blood, you know,” she said, nodding at his chest.

“Touché, love.”

A shadow loomed over them. “Are both of you alright?” Gawain asked worriedly.

“We're fine,” Emma said hurriedly. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Killian felt her pull away to stand; reluctantly, he followed her, wrapping his arm securely around her waist once they were upright. He was letting her go over his dead body.

Guinevere and Arthur came rushing up to them. “Thank goodness!” Guinevere cried. “I was afraid you had...”

“It'll take a lot more than that to get rid of me,” Emma joked, but Killian could feel her leaning on him. She was exhausted. He brushed a kiss at her temple.

“Still, we should have the Court Physician look at you,” Arthur said. “Both of you.”

Emma shook her head. “No, you don't have to do that. We're fine, honest.”

“Emma...” Gawain said.

Emma stopped him with a glare. Then she sighed. “Here, watch.” She pushed away from Killian ever so slightly and raised her hand to his chest. Killian was about to protest – she was far too weak to be using her magic – but Emma was too fast. Her hand glowed and Killian felt the tingle of magic on his skin. When she pulled her hand away, the bloody scratches were gone; his skin perfect once more.

“Sweet merciful gods,” Gawain breathed.

Emma shrugged. “It's not a big deal.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Arthur asked.

Killian spoke up. “No offense, your majesty, but we've learned the hard way about trusting complete strangers. Emma's magic is something precious and we thought it best not go to advertising it the masses. Not many people know back in our world either.”

“But Morgan knew,”Arthur persisted.

“We had to blast our way out of her castle. What would you have had us do? Throw rocks at her?”

“It's certainly useful as a surprise tactic,” Gawain said, impressed. “Not many could have stood against her like that, Emma.”

Emma half smiled. “Thanks. I think.”

“I'm sure you and Merlin will have much to discuss when he arrives,” Arthur said. “I think I know why Caradoc was so keen on sending you to us, princess.”

“Please, Arthur,” Guinevere cut in. “Emma and the Captain are surely exhausted. It's been a terrible night for all of us. Let them rest.”

“Very well, my love,” Arthur said. “Gawain, see the princess and Captain to their chambers. Then return, so that we may continue sorting through the chaos. We still need to find Kay.”

“Yes, sire.”

Gawain led them out of the hall. Killian caught a glimpse of the carnage Morgan's attack had wrought. Many of the former zombie knights were sitting around disoriented, clearly having no memory of what had occurred. There were sheets covering several in one corner. Killian didn't know how many of _those_ he was responsible for, but he couldn't bring himself to feel badly about it. Zombie or not, they had been trying to kill him. And it was Killian's philosophy that if someone tried to kill you, you tried to kill them right back, especially in the heat of battle.

“Hey, you okay?” Emma asked, as they passed through the door.

“Of course, my love,” he replied. “I'm fine.”

“That's not your fault,” she said knowingly. “It's Morgan's.”

“Emma, I've been a pirate for a very long time. This isn't the first time I've had to kill people in battle.”

“I know.”

They were silent the rest of the way to their room. Gawain wished them a good night and left. Killian leaned heavily against the door; Emma curled into his embrace. He kissed the crown of her head. “Please don't ever scare me like that again, love.”

“It's not like I did it on purpose,” she muttered.

“I know, I know,” he said quietly, his arms tightening around her. “If you had really been...” he shook his head. “I don't know what I would have done. It felt so real. And it is not something I ever want to feel again.”

“I'll second that.”

Killian held her at arm's length. “Are you certain you're not hurt anywhere else?”

Emma raised a hand to his cheek. “Positive.”

Killian shook his head. “Am I going to have to strip you to make sure? Because I will.”

“Only if I get to strip you too.”

“Emma, this is serious. You know you can't magic away your injuries. I need to tend them if they're there.”

“What's the point of having magic if I can't use it on myself?” Emma complained.

“Maybe you should complain to someone about that.”

“I thought I just did.”

Killian smiled softly. “Now are you prepared to be honest with me, princess?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine. My shoulder's a little tender.”

“Was that so hard?” he asked, as he peeled her jacket and shirt off. Sure enough, Emma's shoulder was a bit bruised. He guided her over to the table and sat her in a chair. Then he pulled over the nearby water basin and soaked a washcloth. Gently, he washed the cut on her head. It looked worse than it was. When it was clean, he pressed a kiss there for good measure, remembering how she'd done the same for him back on the _Jolly Roger_. Then he busied himself with the dirt and dried sweat on her skin. Eventually, he knelt down and stripped off her boots and pants, so that she was clad only in her underthings. Once he was sure she was clean, Killian picked her up and took her to the bed. He laid her down gently. She reached for him, but he shook his head.

“I'll be right back, love,” he whispered. He kissed her nose then turned away. He wanted to stoke the dying fire then clean himself up before his own exhaustion overwhelmed him. Those tasks completed, Killian sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. Emma's chest rose and fell steadily; her eyes were closed. He'd been so close to losing her; for those terrible few minutes, he thought he _had_ lost her. What would have become of him then? Emma was his whole world, his True Love. How could he survive without her? Losing Milah had nearly destroyed him. He'd become little more than a hollow empty shell, absent of light and love. But Milah's light paled in comparison to Emma's. Morgan would pay for nearly robbing him of Emma. One day.

“Killian,” Emma murmured. “Killian.”

Killian brushed his hand down her arm. “Hush, love. I'm right here.”

“I missed you.”

Killian smiled. “Aye, love. I missed you too.” Killian unscrewed his hook and laid it aside. Then he crawled into the bed, gathering Emma in his arms. Huddling under the blanket, she tangled their legs together, as if trying to get as close to him as she could. “Careful, love,” he admonished. “You should sleep.”

“So should you,” she countered stubbornly.

Killian chuckled. “Fair enough. Let's both sleep, yeah?” Emma nodded against his chest. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, Killian.”

When Killian woke the next morning, Emma was already awake. She had her head propped up on one hand and stared at him intently. Killian scrubbed his hand over his face. “How long have you been awake, love?”

“Long enough.”

Killian ran his hand over her shoulder; the bruise was already beginning to fade. “This looks better. How do you feel?”

Emma shrugged, her fingers twitching at her hip. “Alright, I suppose.”

Killian raised his fingers to her throat, sliding them gently across her skin. “And this?”

“I can talk without it hurting, if that's what you're asking.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Kiss me?”

Killian smirked. “I think I can do that.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. He kept it light, not wanting to push her any further than she was ready to go. She'd been through hell the previous night; as long as he had her in his arms, he was content.

But Emma, it seemed, wanted more than just a simple kiss. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, nipping at it lightly. Killian ran his hand along her arm, pressing closer to her. Emma ghosted her hand over his hip and pulled him even closer. Killian groaned into her mouth, opening to give her what she wanted. She tangled her tongue with his in increasing desperation. She touched him everywhere she could reach from this angle, sending streaks of fire along his skin. Gasping, Killian pulled back, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Are you sure about this, love?”

“Do you not want to?” she asked, confused.

“Love, I _always_ want you, do hear me? _Always_ ,” he said firmly. “But not if it's not what you really need right now, yeah?”

Emma's eyes softened. “I almost died last night, Killian,” she said and he winced, not wanting to recall those few minutes. “When I came to and saw you, it shattered my heart. You looked so broken, Killian. I hated that you had been forced to live through that. I can't even imagine what that was like. I hope I never have to. Right now, what I want is to celebrate the fact that we're still alive and together. I need you, Killian. Please.”

“You are bloody amazing, my love,” he said earnestly.

“So are you,” she replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. This time he didn't stop her. Killian slid his hand into her hair and pulled her closer. Emma crawled on top of him, pressing her chest against his and threading her fingers through his hair. Killian groaned under her onslaught, needing more of her. He reached behind her and deftly flicked open her bra and started yanking it off. Emma rose up long enough to pull her arms through the loops and send it to the floor. Taking advantage of her distraction, Killian raised himself up on his forearms and latched on to one of Emma's sensitive nipples. He suckled it gently, lavishing it with attention with his lips and tongue. Emma grabbed the edge of the headboard to hold herself up, throwing her head back with a moan. Her free hand tangled in his hair as he switched from the right to the left.

“Oh god,” Emma breathed, her hand holding him in place. Almost unconsciously, her hips started to rotate in his lap, brushing against his arousal, and her breath came in harsher pants. Her skin was nearly feverish to the touch and he was barely touching her. Killian pulled his mouth away and hauled her down to his lips, rolling them over so that he could reach more of her. He'd nearly lost her; a deep seated part of him needed to touch her, to reassure himself that she was real. Emma seemed to have the same need; her hands roamed all over, down his back, across his chest, over his backside and drawing his legs up. Killian left wet open mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, taking the time to suck on her pulse point. He could feel her rapid, strong heartbeat beneath his tongue. There it was: undeniable proof that his Emma was _alive_ , alive and in his arms. And so help him, she'd never leave the safety of his embrace ever, ever again.

“I love you,” she whispered, holding onto him for dear life. “I love you so much.”

Killian raised his head and stared into her eyes, the eyes that reminded him of the Neverland star and of the ocean he loved so much. There weren't enough words to fully ensconce what she meant to him, but gods help him, he would try. For her sake. “My beautiful, perfect Emma,” he murmured. “There is no power in this realm or any other that will keep from you. Ever. I swear to you, my love.”

Emma smiled up at him, tears welling in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss. “Please, Killian. I need you.”

Killian kissed her again, stifling her cry as he slid inside her. He remained still for long seconds, savoring the feel of them together once more. Killian bit down on his lip, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The thought that she had nearly been taken from him was unfathomable in that moment. This was how they were meant to be always. One heart, one body, one soul. True Love in every sense. Beneath him, Emma whimpered. Killian kissed her brow and started to move. Slow, torturous strokes designed to drive both of them to madness. Emma's nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him; her long legs were wrapped securely around his waist. She begged, pleaded, but Killian paid her no heed. He wanted to make this last as long as he could. In desperation, Emma nipped at his earlobe, kneading the soft flesh between her teeth. A shot of desire ripped down his spine, jarring his rhythm.

“Minx,” he growled. He changed the angle of his thrusts, driving into her with more force.

“Fuck!” Emma cried. “Please, just like that. _Please._ ”

“Is this what you want?” he asked harshly against her ear, thrusting hard with each word, hitting that spot that made her cry out in pleasure.

“Yes!”

Wordlessly, he heeded her demand. She pulled him down for a needy passionate kiss that left him breathless. He could feel her inner walls start to flutter around him. “Close, Killian,” she breathed against his neck. “So close.”

He was as well, but he wanted to drive her over the edge first. Killian snaked his good hand between them and touched that spot make her see stars. He'd barely touched it with pad of his thumb when Emma screamed as her release made her body shudder under him. He shouted his own hoarse cry as he followed her into oblivion. Spent and unable to hold himself up any longer, Killian collapsed on top of her, his head over her heart. He could feel the aftershocks of her orgasm and it made him shudder.

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered.

“Yes?” Killian said against her sternum.

“If I could lift my arms, I'd hit you for that,” Emma countered.

“I guess it's good you can't lift your arms then, love.”

“You're one to talk, Captain.”

“Aye,” he acknowledged. “I don't ever want to move again.”

“They're going to come for us eventually, you know.”

“I'll just have to tell them to sod off. You're _mine_.” With some feeling coming back into his limbs, Killian managed to roll off her. In an instant, the chill of the room swept across their sweat coated skin. Emma shivered and Killian pulled up the previously discarded blanket. Emma curled into his side and laid her head on his chest.

“Hm, that's nice,” she said quietly.

“What is, love?”

“Your heartbeat. I can hear it.”

“It's still got some mileage left on it, darling,” he joked. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Don't,” she said, raising her head. “It's not funny.”

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling her face toward him for a kiss. “It's alright, love. I understand. I was listening to yours as well.”

Emma swallowed uncomfortably. “Could you feel it, when I...” she trailed off unable to finish the thought.

Killian looked at her seriously. “Aye. It was the worst feeling in the world. I felt cold, hollow. Then,” he looked away. “I couldn't feel anything at all.”

“Oh, Killian,” she cried softly, hugging him to her. “I'm so sorry.”

“I just want to lock you away, keep you safe and with me,” he admitted quietly. “I don't ever want to feel like that again. I can't be without you, Emma. I can't.”

“Shhhh,” she soothed, kissing his brow. “I know. We'll be okay. One way or another, we'll be okay. I promise.”

She said it with such conviction that Killian couldn't help but believe her. They'd come so far since they met all those months ago; two broken lonely people found love and companionship together, despite all the odds against them. They were formidable individuals, who made an even better team. The whole greater than the sum of its parts. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too, Killian.”

Killian could feel his eyelids grow heavy again. He hoped that no one would come looking for them any time soon. The last thing he wanted was to leave the bed and face the world.

Killian must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew, there was a banging on their door. “Bloody hell!”

Emma raised her head, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What is it?”

“Hell if I know, love,” he groused, as he got out of the bed and yanked on his trousers. He turned to see that Emma was properly covered before opening the door. It was Gawain. “This better be important, mate.”

“Merlin's here, Killian. And he's asking for Emma.”


	12. Chapter 11

Emma followed Gawain down the corridor, Killian securely at her side. Indeed, it almost felt like they were joined at the hip, he was so close to her, arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Such an overtly protective and possessive stance would normally have bothered her, but after the events of the previous night, she was all too happy to give him whatever reassurance he needed. Emma would never forget the look on his face when he believed her dead. The shock she'd felt when she regained consciousness disappeared in an instant when she saw Killian on his knees, bent double, his whole body shaking with the weight of his grief. He looked completely and utterly _destroyed_ , like his entire world has vanished before his eyes.

Emma understood something profound in that moment. She finally understood _how_ _much_ he loved her. He told her constantly, true, but there was a tiny part of her that couldn't fully comprehend it. She wasn't anything special; she was just...Emma, the abandoned girl who grew up too young and didn't know how to trust. Love like what Killian felt for her just wasn't on her radar. She saw an echo of it during her earlier excursion to the Enchanted Forest, seeing how Mary Margaret worried constantly about David. But Killian's grief was something else entirely. She'd never seen anything like that, but it didn't frighten her. It felt like the last piece of her soul had clicked into place and she was _whole_ , for the very first time. Which is why it felt like a knife going through her when Killian initially rejected her efforts to see that she was alive and well. When she finally got him to look at her, her relief was palpable. It was like the connection between them was a living breathing thing; she could almost reach out and touch it. And in the hours since, it had not abated. They held each other close, reluctant to be away from each other even for a few minutes. And if anyone had a problem with that, then they were going to become acquainted with the business end of her fist.

“We finally found Kay,” Gawain was saying.

“What happened?” Killian asked.

“He's dead,” Gawain said, sighing sadly.

Emma instinctively tightened her grip on Killian. So much death. “I'm sorry, Gawain,” she said, softly.

“Arthur thinks Morgan killed him when she could no longer use him to do her bidding,” the knight explained. “But we may never know for sure. The king won't leave his side. Guinevere is with him.”

Kay and Arthur grew up together; they were brothers in every way but blood. Emma couldn't imagine what that felt like, having no siblings of her own. And Morgan was Arthur's _sister_. How could she kill her brother's knight and friend in cold blood like that?

“What about Morgan?” Emma asked.

Gawain turned and faced her. “We've sent out search parties, but nothing so far. We _will_ find her, princess. She won't get near you again.”

“Too right, mate,” Killian agreed.

“But if she teleported, then she could be _anywhere_. She's probably not even in Camelot's borders.”

Gawain shook his head, determined. Emma had never seen him look so serious before. “It doesn't matter. There are Knights of Camelot dead because of her. She almost killed you, while under Arthur's protection. This is not an offense the King will forgive. When we capture her, Arthur _will_ execute her.”

_If he can capture her,_ Emma thought grimly. She was thankful that Morgan's fate did not rest in her hands. Because Emma wasn't at all certain she wouldn't make the same choice Arthur seemed determined to make. Morgan had tried to kill both herself and Killian. That wasn't something Emma was certain she could forgive. It was a fine line between justice and vengeance. Emma, just hoped that when the time came, Arthur would know which was which. For better or worse, he'd have to live with himself afterward. Emma just hoped she and Killian were long gone before it came to that. While Gawain and Guinevere were nice enough, Emma just wanted to get home. She missed Henry. She missed Mary Margaret and David. She missed her hot chocolate with cinnamon. Most of all, she wanted to be back home with Killian, where no one was trying to kill them.

But they needed to find a way to stop Gold first. Hence why they were off to see the wizard, literally. Emma just hoped that Merlin had the answers they were looking for.

“He's still weak from the trip,” Gawain warned outside Merlin's chamber door. “Try not to overtax him.”

“Now, listen here, _mate,_ ” Killian growled.

“He's my friend, as well, Killian. The road from Avalon is hard. And at his insistence, they traveled far more quickly than they should have given his condition. He _wants_ to help you; in fact, he's _insisting_ on it. But I won't have you putting undo pressure on him.”

“I understand, Gawain. We just want our answers, then we'll get out of your hair,” Emma said.

“Emma, I didn't mean to imply you were a burden,” Gawain said hurriedly, horrified.

“Are you going to stand out there bickering or are you going to let the princess and the captain in, Gawain?” came a muffled voice through the door. “I assure you, I am quite alright.”

Gawain smiled at hearing his friend's voice. “You're in good hands. I must see to the king.”

Emma looked at Killian; he was looking at her with the same look of confusion she felt. The hell was _that?_ But they didn't have time to ponder it. Emma pushed open the door and stepped inside, Killian at her side.

To Emma's surprise, Merlin was almost exactly how she'd pictured him. He didn't wear a pointy wizard's hat – who had decided that was the fashion anyway? Emma wondered – but in all other respects he looked like the Merlin of legend. Old – it was impossible to tell just _how_ old, early seventies, maybe – with sparkling green eyes and white beard that reached his waist. No oversized blue robes though. _Disney got another one wrong,_ Emma thought, amused. Killian had been outraged when he saw how Captain Hook was dressed in Disney's _Peter Pan_. No, this Merlin was wearing what appeared to be a drab brown monk's habit. Merlin smiled kindly at them as they entered; it transformed his whole face giving him a vitality that one didn't expect in someone that old.

“Captain, Emma – may I call you Emma, my dear?” Merlin asked. Emma nodded. “Please sit. I'm sure you have many questions for me.”

“You could say that again,” Emma muttered. Beside her, Killian chuckled mirthlessly. Together they sat at the table across from the wizard. As they did, Emma noticed the large crystal that sat in the middle of the large table. “What's that?” she asked.

“That is one of the Seeing Stones of Avalon. I thought a glimpse of your loved ones would put you at ease.”

“You can do that?” Emma missed Henry fiercely, and here was the most famous wizard of all time offering her a chance to see him. It seemed too good to be true.

“I thought the Stones were a myth,” Killian said, cocking a brow at the wizard.

If Merlin was put off by Killian's somewhat hostile tone, he gave no sign. “I assure you, Captain, they are not. Although, strictly speaking they should not leave the sanctuary. I... _borrowed_ this one.”

“You stole it,” Emma said, surprised.

“Technically, yes.”

“All so we could see our family? You gotta have a better reason than that, wizard,” Killian demanded.

“Have I committed some offense against you, Captain?” Merlin asked. “We are of an age, perhaps I did and have merely forgotten.”

Killian scowled. “I remember _everything,_ wizard. Believe me, there are times I wish I didn't. I'm not proud of the things I've done. If we'd have met prior to this, I would remember.”

Emma looked at Killian, concern in her eyes. She rarely heard Killian speak about who he'd been before. And never with such self loathing. He wouldn't look at her; he kept his gaze focused on the old man. She had no idea what to do; she wasn't used to comforting _him_ , at least not over something like this. The truth was Emma and Killian had both done things they weren't proud of. She refused to judge him; it wasn't her place. She accepted who he had been, recognizing that it played a part in making him the man she loved. She understood him. And no matter what he'd done in the past, he'd proved to her that he'd changed. Killian wasn't the pirate seeking revenge at any cost. Not anymore. Captain Hook was dead.

“And yet you mistrust me,” Merlin observed.

“Can you really blame him?” Emma cut in, annoyed. “He spent over twenty four hours in a dungeon and I nearly got killed in this castle. We don't know you. So when you give us a chance to see our family with no strings attached, you'll have to forgive us if we're a tad leery.”

Merlin frowned. “I am sorry about that; if I had been here when you arrived, then all that could have been avoided.”

“If you were well enough to send Caradoc on a secret mission, then why _weren't_ you here in Camelot?”

Merlin looked down at the table, his shoulders sagging. It was the first time he _looked_ his age, however old that was. “An old man's vanity,” he said sadly. “I did not wish to present myself at court until I was fully recovered. But events were conspiring against me. Some weeks ago, the High Priestess came to me. She showed me a terrible vision in the Seeing Stones. Stars were going out. Not merely the natural death of one or two. But whole swaths of sky going _black_. I knew I had to do something, warn Arthur. But I knew I was not well enough to make the journey. That day, Caradoc visited me. He had been on patrol near Avalon and decided to stop and check on my progress. I saw my chance. There was only one person left in this land – aside from myself – who had the resources to make that vision come true.”

“Morgan,” Emma said, unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed. “Morgan. She hates Arthur. I did not know the scope of the vision; I assumed that only Camelot was threatened. So I decided to send Caradoc – in disguise – to find out what Morgan was up to, to see if she was the threat I feared. I glamored him, impressed upon him the necessity for utmost secrecy and sent him on his way. I never heard from him again.”

“We did,” Emma informed him. “He was the one who sent us here.”

Merlin smiled wanly. “Good man. Given what you have told Arthur, he did the right thing.” The old wizard paused. “Your journey has been long and for that I am truly sorry. Please, before we go any further, allow me to show you your home. It is the least that I can do.”

Emma exchanged a look with Killian. He nodded. “Alright,” Emma agreed.

Merlin stood heavily and waved his hand over the crystal. Colors swirled in the crystal; the images never stayed long enough for any of them to come into proper focus. Emma thought maybe she saw a tree, some swirling snow, a bolt of lightening, but she couldn't be sure. “What is all that stuff?” Emma asked.

“The Seeing Stones show many things. The future, the past, the present, other realms. Only someone trained in their use can tell the difference. Now you must focus. Focus on your world. On your loved ones. Gawain tells me you have magic, Emma. Use it.”

Emma looked at Killian; he nodded reassuringly. Emma turned back to the crystal, concentrating on Henry, on David and Mary Margaret, on how Storybrooke looked from the sea. Gradually, the images slowed down and finally came to a stop all together. There sitting on a bench next to the _Jolly Roger_ 's empty berth was Henry.

“Henry,” Emma whispered, her chest aching with how much she missed him. It was hard to tell in the crystal, but he looked tired. Henry clutched his book in his lap, staring out at the sea. But he was alright. Thank god he was alright still.

“We'll be home soon, Henry,” Killian said, even though he knew the boy couldn't hear him.

As Killian spoke, Regina stepped into the image. The former Evil Queen sat down next to her son, asking him something. There was no sound with the image, so Emma had no idea what she was saying. Regina looked worried, but was doing her best to hide it from Henry. Henry smiled at his mother wanly and nodded. Then Regina hugged him tight. Emma couldn't help the tiny flare of jealousy; _she_ should be there with Henry. But Regina was just as much his mother as Emma was; Emma would do the same if their positions were reversed. Henry would be worried if Regina had traveled on some adventure. Henry handed Regina his book and got up. The image widened and Emma could see her parents standing at the end of the dock. Henry walked over to his grandparents; the three of them hugged. David looked even more worried than Regina did and Mary Margaret just looked sad. Had they all given up on them? Emma knew they had been gone longer than they had intended, but honestly. Wasn't her family's mainstay the faith that they would find one another?

“What is their problem?” Emma asked, angry. “They look like we're not coming back.”

“Emma, love, you know they don't believe that. Certainly, Henry doesn't. He's too stubborn for that.”

“Then why does everyone look like someone died?”

Killian wasn't looking at her, he was looking at the crystal. “Maybe he has something to do with it?”

Emma looked back at the crystal. A clearly upset Gepetto came into the picture. “Oh god. Please tell me something didn't happen to August.” Since returning from Wonderland, August had become a good friend. He brought Henry a new wooden sword every time Henry broke one, which was often. Her anger at him for interfering in her life had long since dissipated; she would be very sad indeed if he'd come to any harm.

“Who is August?” Merlin asked.

“He's a friend,” Emma began, then it dawned her what the old wizard meant. “He's Pinocchio. He came through the wardrobe with me twenty nine years ago. It's a long story.”

“Tall chap, dark brown hair, horribly grown beard?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, wondering how the hell Merlin knew that.

“I saw such a man when I went to look at Rumplestiltskin,” Merlin explained. “Once Percival and Elyan explained what you were here for, I began looking into the Dark One's whereabouts immediately.”

“And?” Killian said.

“It was as I feared.”

“What do you mean?” Emma said, getting more and more irritated with the cryptic routine.

Merlin waved at the image in the crystal; Storybrooke disappeared. _“Hey!”_ Emma exclaimed. She wasn't done looking at her family just yet.

“This will not be easy for you to hear, child,” Merlin said, gently. “But it must be done. I do not wish to hide anything from you. I just hope you can forgive me.”

Emma raised skeptical eyebrow. “Forgive you for what exactly?”

Merlin pinched the top of his nose and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he looked sad and ashamed. The old man folded his hands in front of him and sighed. “There is a reason Camelot was the only kingdom spared from the curse,” he began.

“Yeah, Arthur told us,” Emma said. “You gave up a lot to keep Camelot safe.”

“Ah, but it was merely the price,” Merlin explained. “The curse was designed to be all consuming, as I'm sure you know. Every person in a every realm sent to the Land Without Magic, all so that the Dark One – Rumplestiltskin at that time – could find his son.”

“You know an awful lot about it,” Emma said, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

“That's because I helped create it.”

“ _WHAT?”_ Emma and Killian said at the same time.

Merlin held his old gnarled hands up. “Please, hear me out. I realize there is no excuse for what I did. At the time, I believed I was acting in Camelot's best interests. This kingdom has long been my destiny and Arthur my friend. I did not want to see our hard work come to nothing. Seeing you here, I realize now that I was wrong, very, very wrong.”

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Merlin – the great and powerful Merlin – _willingly_ helped Rumplestiltskin create the curse that sent her to an unknown land as an infant, separating Emma from her parents – maybe _forever._ It was bad enough that Rumplestiltskin himself could be so callous – first, by abandoning his own Baelfire, then by forcing her own parents to abandon her. But _Merlin_? Emma's emotions were all over the place; she felt exactly the same way she had when August told her about Phoenix and Neal. Beside her, Killian was _fuming_.

“Explain. _Now,”_ Killian demanded, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Merlin nodded. “As I said, Captain, you and I are of an age. I am much older than I appear, as do you. Unlike you, however, I did not have the magic of Neverland at my disposal. The Dark One is even older; no one knows precisely how old. The dagger has changed hands so much times over the centuries that that knowledge was lost. Men greedy for power, for protection, for influence have taken that power for themselves when they are cunning enough to outsmart the current Dark One. Or in the previous Dark One's case...mercifully taken his life because he was just so _tired_ of all the conflict and struggle, the things he had been forced to do.”

“Rumplestiltskin wanted to use the power of the Dark One to protect his son from going off to the Ogre Wars,” Emma said, remembering what she had read in the book about the Dark One.

“His original intention may have been good, but quickly he was twisted by the sheer power he held. Nearly everyone was terrified of him; his son Baelfire most of all.”

“That's why he wanted to go to the Land Without Magic, so that Rumplestiltskin couldn't use his powers anymore.”

“Yes,” Merlin said. “In the Land Without Magic, Rumplestiltskin would be powerless. But at the last second, his courage failed him and he couldn't go through with it. That left Baelfire to go through the portal alone.”

“What courage?” Killian scoffed. “That coward has none.”

“Rumplestiltskin does have a very...interesting view of the world, Captain. And indeed, one man's cowardice is another man's valor.”

“A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets,” Killian said. “The Crocodile made a choice; that doesn't give him the right to ruin worlds.”

“Perhaps not,” Merlin agreed. “However, doesn't the father have the obligation to attempt to make amends? Don't we all deserve that chance?”

“There had to be a better way than just manipulating people and ruining their lives,” Emma argued.

“I do not disagree, Emma. I do not know why Rumplestiltskin went about his quest in the manner that he did. Indeed, it wasn't until the Dark One interfered in the affairs of Camelot, that I even became aware of his existence.”

“Aren't you practically the same age as him though?”

“As I said, for many centuries, the power of the Dark One was cloaked in secrecy. He would crop up in history and then vanish. I was deeply involved with my own destiny; I did not have time to follow idle ghost stories. My path was clear. Then Rumplestiltskin tutored Morgan in the ways of dark magic and I was forced to act.”

“That was when you defeated him.”

“Yes,” Merlin said, sadly. “However, it was only a ploy. A gambit designed to get my attention. You see, as brilliant as Rumplestiltskin is, he needed someone to help him create the curse that would help him find his son. Passing to and from other realms is very delicate magic,” Merlin explained. “Especially without the aid of something designed for that purpose.”

“Like the beans or Jefferson's hat.”

“Precisely. You could tear the realms apart if you're not careful.”

“Alright, so you helped him create the curse. What was the deal?”

Merlin smiled sadly, knowing what Emma was referring to. Rumplestiltskin was notorious for his deals. “I offered to help him, if he would give me a way to protect Camelot. Seeing Camelot thrive without the influence of the Dark One? Arthur could become the king he was born to be. And it would not be forever. I knew that the curse would be broken.”

“You knew that a _child_ would be condemned to twenty eight years of _hell_ and you were alright with that?!” Killian exclaimed.

“I did not know the precise circumstances of the Savior, no. The Savior was not meant to go to the Land Without Magic alone.”

“But you didn't think to – oh I don't know – look in your goddamn crystal?” Emma asked, waving her hand at it angrily. “Can it see the future or not?”

“It can see into any land with magic at its heart.”

“Convenient.”

“I can prove it,” Merlin said, placing a hand on the crystal. “Focus on a place outside of your town. Somewhere in your realm that does not have magic.”

Emma focused; she thought of Boston, with its colonial charm and history. The place that the Pilgrims founded was literally the _last_ place you'd find magic, right? The crystal went black; no image, just black. “Try again,” Merlin encouraged. Emma thought about Tallahassee, the Spanish buildings and the Gulf breeze. This time there was a small nickle sized whole among the black.

“That is because of the curse that Rumplestiltskin is currently concocting,” Merlin said. “As you know, the barriers between realms are deteriorating. Small images are bleeding through.”

“That's still not an excuse,” Emma said bitterly.

“You have every right to hate me, Emma,” Merlin said. “By helping Rumplestiltskin, I meddled in countless lives. I shouldn't have. I can only say that I am sorry and hope that eventually you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Killian was still plainly furious, but he brought them back to the problem at hand. “What does all this have to do with what the Crocodile's doing now?”

“I believe that Rumplestiltskin is trying another version of the curse, a counter curse if you will. The original curse was tampered with. Someone added aspects to it that neither Rumplestiltskin nor I envisioned. It is why my failsafe did not work precisely as it should.”

“Regina,” Emma said. “She tampered with the curse. Gold was surprised when he found out no one could leave Storybrooke.”

“Not if they wanted to keep their memories anyway,” Killian said.

“I imagine Rumplestiltskin was quite put out out about that,” Merlin said.

“He was. But then Neal – Baelfire – showed up all on his own,” Emma explained.

“Judging from your tone, Emma,” Merlin said, “I take the reunion did not go well?”

“No, Neal doesn't want anything to do with his father. After I told him to move on with his life, Neal left Storybrooke and went back to New York. As far as I know, anyway.”

“And now Rumplestiltskin is taking matters into his own hands,” Merlin observed.

“Gee, do you think?” Emma said sarcastically.

Killian grinned sardonically at her. “So how do we stop it?”

“The original curse had several ingredients. Bits from most of the magical creatures in the Enchanted Forest...and the heart of the thing the caster loved the most.”

“Yeah, we knew that,” Emma said, annoyed. It had been in Henry's book. Emma still couldn't understand how Regina's thirst for revenge would allow her to murder her own father, but that wasn't the issue at hand.

Merlin continued as if she hadn't spoken. “A counter curse is just that; _counter_ as in opposite. Judging from what's happening, Rumplestiltskin needs the most powerful curse he can concoct to counteract whatever Regina did to his original curse. Rumplestiltskin doesn't just merely have Excalibur – excellent deduction on that, Captain – he has objects from nearly _every_ magical realm.”

“Why?”

“To power the curse,” Merlin explained. “Most magical objects carry a certain type of power. Enchanted objects are very powerful and often take on a life of their own, so to speak. It is _most_ unwise to collect too many in one place.”

“What happens?” Killian asked.

“You've seen it,” Merlin replied. “Those objects are in separate realms for a reason. Put them together and...no one is meant to have that kind of power. _No one_. Because it's unpredictable. And destructive. Those object represent their respective realms. Rumplestiltskin wants to use them to fuel his curse to bring down the most powerful magical barrier he knows: the one between your town and the rest of your world.”

“All so he can see Neal?” Emma asked.

“It would appear so. But that is not all.” Merlin's tone caused a shiver to run up Emma's spine. What could be worse than that? “Remember what I said about a counter curse being opposite?”

“Yeah...”

“When Regina cast the curse, she needed the heart of the thing she _loved_ the most. What is the opposite of love?”

“Hate,” Emma said automatically, knowing that wasn't _strictly_ true, but this was Rumplestiltskin they were talking about. Then her stomach lurched and the color drained out of her face. She looked at Killian, horrified.

“What is it, love? You look like death.”

Emma clutched at his hand. “You,” she breathed out. “Gold needs your heart for his curse.”

Killian's brow knitted in confusion. “But he can't do that now, Emma. Remember? We're tied together; True Love and all that.”

Merlin perked up at that; Emma was still numb. “What's this?” the old wizard asked. Briefly, Killian explained about Cora and the way she tried to take Emma and Killian's hearts. Then about Morgan, the battles both at her home and the previous night. He nearly choked on the way he felt when he'd believed Emma was dead, but he got it out. Through her numb haze, Emma comforted him as best she could. Was this what he felt when he thought her dead? A vision of Killian laying there motionless, his heart missing, danced in front of her eyes. Then she got angry – really angry. Just who in the hell did Gold think he was anyway?

“That fucking bastard,” Emma muttered. “The nerve!”

“What is it, love?”

“Think about it. He still blames me for Neal leaving. He said as much after you goaded him in his shop. Hang on,” Emma paused, thinking back to that conversation. “Oh my god. That son of bitch threatened you, right to my face. He said, 'I warned you when you chose him over my son. You may still reap the consequences of that decision.' _This_ was what he was talking about! I knew he was pissed but Jesus.”

Killian looked thunderous. “Sodding Crocodile. How is it your fault that he alienated his own flesh and blood?”

“Now he wants you out of the way; it's two birds with one stone. He probably thinks that if you're gone I'll just take Neal back.”

“But, love, that still doesn't change the fact that his plan won't work. My heart can't be taken, thanks to you.”

“While I agree your situation is _most_ unusual,” Merlin began, “I assure you Rumplestiltskin will find a way. He'll cut it out of your chest with a spoon if he has to.”

Absurdly, Emma laughed. All she could think about was that movie about Robin Hood, where the Sheriff of Nottingham wants to cut Robin's heart out with a spoon. It was such a ridiculous notion. Gold's plan was so desperate – so _absurd_ – that laughter continued to bubble out of her. She couldn't stop. Killian and Merlin both stared at her completely nonplussed.

At length, Killian squeezed her hand. “Are you alright, Emma?”

Emma took a deep breath, trying to get her wildly conflicting emotions under control. After a few tries, she got to where she could breath normally. “Merlin's right, Killian,” she said at last. “We can't rely on our True Love connection this time. There has to be another way. There is, isn't there, Merlin.”

“The most basic thing is to get the stolen items back to their original realms. The damage done should correct itself in time.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow. “That's the symptom, not the disease,” she said matter of factly. Threatening Killian's life was a step too far. She was _done._ “I'm tired of Rumplestiltskin, Gold, the Dark One, whatever the hell he calls himself this week, fucking with my life. We need to end this.”

Killian looked at her askance. Like he was seeing a stranger. Then he shook his head. “No, Emma, we can't. I won't let you become like me. You are too good to become a killer.”

Emma's expression softened. His concern for her made her heart ache. _This_ was why she couldn't lose him. “Killian, I...”

Merlin cleared his throat. “The only way to _kill_ the Dark One is with the dagger, so unless you _want_ to be the next Dark One, Emma...”

“Don't be daft,” Killian said. “She's just upset. And so am I. You magical wankers keep screwing with our life. We just want to be left alone to be happy.”

“I was going to say that there may be a way to stop Rumplestiltskin for good without killing him.”

“What do you mean, _may_?” Emma asked.

Merlin sighed, looking older than ever. “When I first discovered what Rumplestiltskin was doing with Morgan, I went to the High Priestess. I thought surely someone as wise as she would know how to defeat a demon such as Rumplestiltskin. Perhaps had knowledge that I did not.”

“And did she?” Emma asked.

“She did. However, it required travel to another realm and with all the beans gone...”

“You made a devil's bargain instead.” Merlin nodded. “Which realm?” Emma asked.

Merlin looked at Killian. “Neverland.”

Killian looked stunned, angry and disbelieving all at the same time. “Bollocks.”

“Captain...”

Abruptly, Killian stood and started pacing. “That's _impossible_ ,” he said emphatically. “I spent three hundred years in that sodding hellhole and I never found _anything_. You are completely off your nut, old man.”

“That may be,” Merlin said. “But you asked what I know and I am telling you.”

“Rubbish.”

“What did she tell you, Merlin?” Emma asked.

“She didn't tell me so much as show me,” Merlin said, waving his hand over the crystal once more. As the images blurred, Killian returned to the table, still looking agitated. Emma couldn't blame him. The idea that he had been _that_ close to something that could have brought him his revenge and he missed it had to be...well, Emma didn't know what, but it had to be bad.

Finally, the images came to still. Emma peered into the crystal. There was a short round man dressed in black. He didn't _look_ that menacing; he looked like one of those guys you see hunched over their computers typing code feverishly, if Emma was being honest. The man stepped onto a beach, beyond it was foliage Emma had never seen before. Those trees were unlike anything she had seen in her world, the Enchanted Forest or Wonderland. “Is that?” she said to Killian.

“Aye,” he replied, not looking at her. “That's Neverland.”

A tall, slim hooded figure joined the man on the beach. It was a woman, at least Emma was fairly certain it was. Her suspicion was confirmed when the figure lowered the hood. A long mane of rich brown hair tumbled out of it and down her back. The woman had delicate features that were an interesting contrast to her sharp calculating gray eyes.

“I'll be buggered,” Killian breathed.

“You know her?” Emma asked.

“Aye. That there is Titania, queen of the pixies. What is she doing? The pixies don't involve themselves with the affairs of men.”

“Watch, Captain,” Merlin chided.

Titania pulled something out of her cloak. She held her hands out to the man across from her, holding an object in each hand. One was a pouch of...lord only knew what. But the other was undoubtedly Rumplestiltskin's dagger. Emma had seen a picture of it in Henry's book. Titania and the man spoke, the queen weighing the objects in her hand. A choice then. The man looked confused and not a little frightened. At length, though, he reached out and took the dagger. It glowed in his hand. Titania spoke once more. Looking at her skeptically, the man took the dagger pricked his finger with it. The man froze as the magic in the dagger seemed to _seep_ into his system. The man shuddered, then went still. After a moment, the man held up his hand, speaking a phrase. A bright blue ball of magic floated in his palm. The man grinned broadly. He looked up, but Titania was already gone.

“I believe that was the first in the line of sorcerers who became known as the Dark One,” Merlin said.

“Why would Titania create that monster?” Killian asked.

“I do not know,” Merlin said. “But if this vision is correct, then only pixie magic can destroy the dagger.”

“So if we destroy the dagger, what happens to Gold?”

“He goes back to being Rumplestiltskin, sans powers. An ordinary human.”

“If Titania created the dagger, then only she knows how to unmake it,” Killian said. “Pixie magic is particular that way.”

“I've heard legends about it,” Merlin said.

“They're all true,” Killian said. “Pixies are haughty, jealous harpies and twice as mean. And they're literal to a fault.”

“So what do we do?” Emma said.

“I've told you all I can,” Merlin said. “You have weapons and skills at your disposal that I did not. I trust you will make the right decision.”

 

After saying goodbye to Guinevere and gathering their things, Killian and Emma headed back to the _Jolly Roger._ Gawain and a small contingent of knights insisted on accompanying them, since Morgan was still on the loose. No one talked much; Killian was worried about Emma. They still hadn't decided what to do about the Crocodile. By silent agreement, they wanted to wait until they were alone, preferably back on the ship. He knew she must still be reeling from all the revelations that Merlin had dropped on them; Killian himself certainly was. To think he could have the way to end the Crocodile centuries ago if he had merely asked the right question. Which would have been impossible, since he didn't know about the dagger then. However, if he _had_ managed to destroy the imp back then, he'd be long dead and Emma probably never born. They certainly wouldn't be together and be each other's True Love. It was all very mind numbingly metaphysical and philosophical. It made Killian's head hurt. The only thing he knew for sure was that whatever their decision about the monster himself, they _had_ to stop that spell. Just as they were leaving, Killian overheard one of the pages talking about how another freak storm had uprooted a large swath of forest and leveled a small village.

The trees got thinner as they approached the shore. Finally, at last, Killian could make out the masts of his ship. The _Jolly Roger_ was exactly where they had left her, anchored just off shore. Their little boat was pulled up where they had left it as well. Emma was already climbing off her horse, when Killian finally broke through the tree line.

“That's your ship?” Gawain asked, climbing down as well.

“Aye, that is the _Jolly Roger_. Fastest ship in all the realms.”

“I've never seen a pirate ship before.”

“Well, look your fill, because you may not see another.”

Gawain came to stand by him. “Do you think you'll ever return?” he asked quietly.

Killian looked at Emma. She was loading their things in the boat to take them back to the ship. “I honestly don't know, mate. There's not many beans left. And after everything that's happened, even I may not want to come back.”

“Morgan.”

“Aye. Could you really blame us if we didn't?”

“No,” Gawain said sadly. “I shall miss you, my friend.” The knight held his hand out.

“Thank you, Gawain,” Killian said seriously, shaking his new friend's hand firmly. “For everything.”

“It was nothing,” the knight replied. “I will continue to hope that one day you can return the favor.”

“Killian, are you ready?” Emma asked, coming to stand next to him. His anxiety level dropped immediately. He'd be on edge about her safety for weeks; the safest place for her to be was at his side.

“Aye, lass.”

Emma gave Gawain a grateful smile. “Thanks for...well, everything,” she said awkwardly. “Getting to know you was the one part of this trip that didn't suck.”

“I'll take that as a compliment, Emma,” Gawain said, flashing her that mischievous smile one last time. “I think.”

“You really should.”

“Good luck,” Gawain said, turning serious once more. “I hope we meet again. Soon.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but Killian shot her a warning look. Emma shrugged. “Who knows, maybe we will. Stranger things have happened.”

They all waved their goodbyes and Killian and Emma pushed the small craft into the water. They climbed in and together they rowed back to the _Jolly Roger._ Once they were back aboard, it took them several minutes to square away the little rowboat and all the rest of their gear. Emma went down to their cabin to change her clothes, while Killian went to get them underway. He raised the anchor and looked back at the shore one last time. Gawain was still there, waving. Killian waved back, even though he was pretty sure Gawain couldn't see him. Then he turned away and headed up to the helm. The wind was in their favor and Killian put them on a heading that would take them out to sea, away from the shore. No matter which land they were going to, they couldn't open the portal too close to the shore. That accomplished, Killian headed below to change as well. He was anxious to be in his own clothes again.

“Everything alright?” Emma asked, as he entered the cabin.

Killian chuckled. “I was about to ask you the same thing, love.”

“Me? I'm just fine. Finding out the most famous wizard of all time conspired with the guy who manipulated me into existence is doing wonders for my self worth issues.”

Killian stepped over to her and grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Emma, there is _nothing_ wrong with you. _Nothing._ You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You're bloody gorgeous, strong and you _fight_. There is nothing about you I would change, not even your damn stubbornness.” He smiled. “Truth be told, I even love that because how could you put up with a daft old pirate like me otherwise?”

Emma's lips quirked up in a half smile. “I'll remind you on that next time you're annoyed with me, you know.”

“I would despair if you didn't.” That earned him a grin, finally. He kissed her gently, then pulled away to find some fresh clothes.

As he was pulling a clean tunic over his head, Emma fiddled with her necklace. “What are we going to do, Killian?”

“What do you think we should do, love?”

Emma looked up. There was a fierce determination in her eyes. “I'm am so beyond tired of that...monster screwing with my life. He seems to think everyone's life as a means to an end, to be manipulated for his own selfish ends. He thinks it's justified because he's trying to reconnect with his son, but he's the one who ruined their relationship in the first place!”

Killian didn't disagree with her, but he wanted her to understand the full weight of what she was saying. “There's no coming back from this, Emma. If we do this, it's likely he'll never forgive it.”

“He'll be powerless then. At least then if he does something I can throw him in jail where he probably belongs. Why are you being the cautious one here?” Emma asked. “No one hates him more than you do.”

“Aye. I hate him, make no mistake. But it's a fine line between justice and vengeance, love. Believe me.”

“Huh, I was thinking the same thing earlier about Arthur and Morgan. I don't want him dead, despite the fact that he's trying to kill you...again. And his spell threatens the _entire_ world, not just us. We have to do _something_. Even if we stop _this_ curse, what would stop him from trying again? He has to be held accountable, Killian.”

“Your mother said something like that to me when we were looking for Jefferson.”

“My parents _did_ trick Rumplestiltskin into that cell before I was born. It was in Henry's book.”

“So we're off to Neverland, I presume?”

“I guess. Killian, are okay with that?” Emma asked worriedly. “Oh god, I didn't even think.”

Killian sat in the chair next to the desk, running his hand through his hair. “It won't be easy,” he said, hoping to avoid the conversation he felt sure was coming. “I didn't leave Neverland on the best of terms, love.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

“What do you want me to say, Emma? Am I angry that a way to destroy my bloody Crocodile was right under my nose the whole time? Am I angry that Titania lied right to my face? I'm not as angry as I should be – or would have been if I hadn't given up my revenge ages ago.”

“But you are angry.”

“I'm still me, love.”

“Oh good, I was afraid you had been replaced by a pod person.”

“Perhaps I wasn't meant to find it then. We wouldn't be here if I had.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “You're talking about fate again.”

“A centuries old pirate falls in love with the Savior of all the magical realms?” he joked. “Certainly sounds like fate to me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It sounds so corny when you say it like that.”

“It does not!”

Rather than come back with a retort, Emma came over and sat on the desk. “Killian, I haven't asked this...well, I'm not sure why I haven't. I just decided it didn't matter, I suppose. And I figured you'd tell me about your past when you were ready. But if we're going to Neverland, I think I should know what we're walking into.”

Killian looked down at the floor. She was right, of course. Virtually everything that was happening was because of his past in some form or other. But he was afraid. Desperately afraid. Afraid that once Emma knew all she would look at him differently. Worse, that she'd be afraid of him.

As if reading his mind, Emma reached out and tipped his head up. “Hey, I get it. I do. I've got an unsavory past too, remember?”

Killian laughed mirthlessly. “I hardly think petty theft is the same a terrorizing Neverland for three centuries,” he snarked. Then he winced. “I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean...”

“You were willing to show me your logs before, what's the difference?”

“I was terrified then too, darling.”

“Terrified of _what_? Do you honestly think that there's anything you could tell me that would make fall _out_ of love with you? Because that's not going to happen. Besides, I'm sure there's nothing that could be worse than what my imagination could come up with.”

“You already know the worst,” he said quietly.

“The pixies' Hollow?”

“Aye.”

“Okay, that's kind of a relief. But I think it would do you good to get it off your chest. Just this once, then I'll never ask you again.” She took his hand. “I'll be right here, okay?”

Killian stared at her for a long time. He wanted to memorize her face...just in case. This was a whole other kind of agony from when he'd thought she was dead. At least then, she'd thought well of him. But he felt the comforting warmth of her hand in his. Emma was right there and she wasn't going to vanish, no matter what he said. He _had_ to believe that, believe in them.

“Alright,” he said. Slowly, he told his tale. About first arriving in Neverland, its deceptive beauty and hidden treasures. About his early run ins with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. About the deadly flesh eating mermaids, playing with their affections to get what he wanted and when that didn't work driving them out of their lagoon sanctuary. About the occasional boy who ran away from Pan only to be sent right back by the nasty Captain Hook. Over the centuries, the battles between his crew and Peter Pan grew more intense, culminating in that fateful night in the pixies' Hollow.

“If Peter was such a nuisance, why not just kill him?” Emma asked quietly.

“I asked myself that many a time, love. I guess it was because in the end, he's still just a child. That's a line not even the infamous Captain Hook would cross.”

“Yes, your pirate's code.”

“After the destruction of the Hollow, most residents' of Neverland steered clear of the _Jolly Roger_. I was too caught up in my revenge to really care what anyone thought of me and my crew. As long as they stayed out my way, I was more than willing to leave them alone. I had better things to be getting along with.”

“You said earlier that Titania lied to you. What happened?”

“Well, you know that I was always on the look out for a way to kill the Crocodile. And a way back to our land. Unless you have a bean, once you get to Neverland, it is almost impossible to get out again. Mostly because you don't _want_ to leave. It gets into your mind, Neverland does. You stay there long enough, you'll forget why you came there in their first place. Only the strong willed can withstand it.”

“Like you.”

“Aye. My crew was another matter. Every so often, I'd have to _remind_ them which way was up.”

“I'm assuming you spoke to Titania before you destroyed the Hollow?” Emma prompted.

“Tinkerbell managed to gain me an audience, aye. Pixies are the most damnable creatures. Always so _literal_. Being literal beings, they don't understand the notion of lying. They take everything at face value. I knew next to nothing about Rumplestiltskin, other than he was a demon and a dark one at that. I had to piece together what I could from people who came to Neverland. I had to get them _before_ it worked its magic on them, you see.”

“I'm going to assume those people were not always forthcoming.”

Killian nodded. The ways of torture were not unknown to him. Although, most got one look at his hook and proceeded to sing like canaries. But occasionally, there was a stubborn fellow or two. “Once I had a better idea of what I was looking for, I went to see Titania. I asked if she knew how to kill the creature known as Rumplestiltskin; she said she did not. And so it was back to the drawing board. I didn't think anything of it until now.”

Emma's brow knitted in confusion, then her eyes widened. “Because you said Rumplestiltskin and not the Dark One, she would have had no idea what you were talking about. Well, we know what to ask her now.”

“You probably should do the asking then, love. She won't be happy to see me.”

“I imagine not.”

Killian stood. “I don't like the idea of letting you out of my sight though, love.”

Emma kissed him softly. “I know, Killian. I feel the same way.”

Killian gathered her in his arms, relieved that nothing seemed to have changed. He'd told her the worst of himself and Emma was still here, allowing him to hold her. He breathed in her scent, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “You're still here,” he said, almost to himself.

“Of course I am, silly. I told you before; I don't just love the part of you that's nice. It's all shaped who you are now. That's the guy I want in my life, in my son's life.”

“You are bloody amazing, my love,” he said again.

She smiled up at him. “You have changed, Killian. I can hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes. That vengeful pirate who climbed the beanstalk with me is behind you.”

“I was drawn to you even then, you know,” he admitted, toying with a few strands of her hair. “You were the first thing I saw when the lot of you pulled me out of that rubble. It was like dawn had peered over the horizon for the first time in centuries.”

Emma blushed. “Then I held a knife to your throat and tied you up. Quite the auspicious beginning, huh?”

“That just shows I wasn't wrong about you,” Killian said.

“How's that?”

“You're a tough lass,” he reminded her. “ _My_ tough lass.”

Emma laughed. “You thought me like that even then?” she asked skeptically.

“Well, I must have. I did save your life with nothing in it for me.”

“ _That_ was what frightened me so much, you know,” she said. “It made no sense, you saving me. Why would Captain Hook save the woman who'd betrayed him only hours before?”

“Because he'd fallen hopelessly in love with her, but didn't know it.”

Emma swatted at his shoulder playfully. “No one falls in love that fast.”

“I think your parents would disagree with that,” Killian commented.

“Speaking of,” Emma said, “we should get going. Now that we have a plan, I don't want to worry them any longer than we have to. I want to go home.”

 

 


	13. Chapter 12

Killian peered through the murky darkness, trying to remain alert. They had arrived in Neverland a few hours earlier; it was already night. It had been late afternoon in the Enchanted Forest when they went through the portal, but since time moved so oddly in Neverland the fact that it was dark did not surprise him. He managed to catch glimpses of the all too familiar outline of the island through the heavy fog thereby verifying that they were indeed in the right place. 

Captain Hook had returned to Neverland.

Now he waited. Alone. It was far too dangerous for them to take their much needed rest together – Killian was certain Peter was out there somewhere – so Emma was in their cabin, sleeping while he took the first watch. At least Killian hoped she was sleeping. His own tiredness was like a dark veil fluttering just on the edges of his vision, threatening to overwhelm him. If Killian's crew could see him, they would swear he was going soft. Before, he had routinely pulled twenty four and even forty eight hour watches. As Captain, it was his duty. He would ask no more of his crew than he had been willing to do himself. In the months since he'd arrived in Storybrooke, Killian had grown accustomed to a far less stressful life and it was showing as he stood at the helm looking for any sign of danger.

He did not doubt that it would come. The Jolly Roger and her crew had left Neverland on very bad terms. It wasn't just that ponce Peter Pan they had to watch out for either. The mermaids, the pixies, even the redmen had some sort of grudge against him. Every minute they remained was a minute Emma was in danger. Killian had no fear for himself; he knew he deserved whatever retribution the residents of Neverland tried to exact from him. But he wouldn't allow Emma to get anymore caught up in his troubles than she already was. It already felt like some sort of cosmic form of punishment that the Dark One was created in the one place Killian had sought his destruction for so long. 

He heard a door open, then close. Killian sighed. To his chagrin, he heard Emma's footfalls before he saw her. She climbed to the head of the stairs carrying a pillow and some blankets. “You should be sleeping, my love,” he said.

“Tried that,” she said, irritated. “Too wired, apparently. And no one's there to hum me a lullaby.”

“So you thought you'd sleep out on deck?”

“Why not? Or I don't have to sleep at all. You look like you could use the company.”

“I'm perfectly fine,” he argued, stifling a yawn. Seeing the pillow and blanket, it hit him just how tired he still was.

“You and I have a different definition of fine there, buddy. If you're not sleeping then neither am I.”

“Emma, that's ridiculous, not to mention dangerous. One of us sleeps, one keeps watch, that's what we agreed.”

Emma dropped her accoutrements and fixed him with her sternest glare. “No, you ordered. And since you're still understandably twitchy from what happened with Morgan, I went along with it. But now, I'm back – after tossing and turning for far too long – and saying 'no way in hell.'”

“You're the stubbornest lass I have ever known,” he groused. 

Emma smirked. “Still want to marry me?” she teased.

His eyes softened and he bent his head to kiss her hand. “Of course.”

“Good, because the stubbornness come with the package.”

He eyed her up and down; even in the dark, she was breathtaking. “And a lovely package it is, lass.”

Emma lowered her eyes shyly; Killian knew she was blushing even though he couldn't see it. “You're not so bad yourself, Captain.”

“I still think you should be sleeping,” he said, looking back into the distance. 

Emma shook her head. “I should be wherever you are.”

Killian couldn't help the smirk. “Then why are you all the way over there?” he asked, knowing full well Emma was only two feet away. Even that was too far.

Emma opened her mouth to no doubt argue some more, but she caught sight of his smirk. In a blink, she crossed that single step that separated them and wound herself around him. Killian circled her waist with his arms, holding her tight to him and pressing a kiss to her hair. “That's much better, darling,” he murmured.

Emma chuckled, burying her nose in the crook of his shoulder. “I always feel safe with you,” she said quietly. “Even...before. On the beanstalk? Somehow I knew you wouldn't let me get hurt.”

“And yet you chained me up with an angry giant,” he reminded her. 

“I told you. I was scared. You saw me. Not the Savior, not some obstacle in your path. You were the first person in a very long time who saw who I really was and didn't run away.”

“I wouldn't have, you know,” he said, seriously. “I would have stayed with you.”

“Well, when your option is Cora,” she said, teasingly. 

He raised her head, forcing her to look at him. He could just make out her sea green eyes in the dark. “I'm serious, Emma. I had given you my word and I intended to honor it.”

“You did in the end,” she reminded him. “We got back to Storybrooke in one piece.”

“Aye, that we did,” he agreed. Killian kissed her forehead and pulled her against him once more. He thought about all that had changed since he'd last been in Neverland. “I never thought I'd be here again,” he said, almost absently.

Emma's arms tightened around him. “You're not alone anymore, Killian. Neither of us are.”

Killian kissed her temple. “True, but that's not what I meant. I was being a bit more literal than that.”

“Neverland?”

“Aye. I certainly never thought I'd be bringing you here.”

Emma raised her head again. “Why not?”

“I didn't have any reason to come back here, yeah? When I left, I was convinced I would get my revenge and that would be the end of it. Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be, love.”

“Hey, this place got you to me, I'm not complaining here.”

“Is that talk of fate I hear from Emma Swan?” he teased.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Maybe it's something in the air here. But it feels different. Timeless, somehow. Logically, I knew that. You'd be a really shriveled three hundred year old if it wasn't,” she joked. “But knowing that and understanding it are two different things. We shouldn't have met, Killian. We were born centuries apart. But being here...I think I get it now. All your talk about fate.”

“About bloody time,” he observed. 

Emma hit him playfully. “Don't get cocky about it, pirate.”

“I get cocky about a great many things, my dear. To which were you referring?”

“You're insufferable.”

“You love it.”

“No, I love you. I put up with the insufferable.” She ducked her head, trying to stifle a yawn. 

“Love, you really should be sleeping.”

“I told you. I can't sleep, not without you. One night was bad enough.”

“Then we are at an impasse. Any suggestions, darling?”

“Well, I did bring some pillows and a blanket. We could sleep out here.” He cocked a brow at her. “Or if you're gonna be stubborn about it, I could sleep while you keep watch. Just wake me when it's my turn.”

The deck wasn't the most comfortable of places, but with a bit of ingenuity they could make it work. Having Emma within arm's reach would certainly make Killian feel better. He wondered when – or even if – his anxiety about her safety would go away. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her seemingly lifeless body. He firmly believed that the safest place for her to be was at his side. The prospect of sending her off alone to face Titania filled him with dread. He resolved at that moment to stay as close to her as he could without being seen. In case she needed him.

Together, they made a makeshift bed on the deck behind the helm. There wasn't a lot of space but it was enough. Emma took off her boots and settled down. “Aren't you coming?” she asked.

“I thought I was keeping watch,” he said, ignoring the blatant innuendo. Really, it was just too easy.

Emma fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, not looking at him. It dawned on him that she was just as twitchy about what happened with Morgan as he was, but she was trying valiantly to hide it. Emma hated being seen as weak or fragile. Without another word, Killian lowered himself carefully to the deck and rolled onto the “bed.” He held out his arms for her; a look of relief flickered across her face before she laid her head on his chest.

“Just until I fall asleep,” she whispered. “Then you can go do captain-y things.”

“Hush, love. I'm not going anywhere.” Putting both of their minds at ease was more important than whatever mischief Peter Pan could wreak. Besides, Killian reasoned, most of Neverland was still asleep – probably – and if anything truly nefarious turned up, his sword was only a few feet away, as was Emma's. He'd do his best to stay awake as well. Quietly, Killian stroked her hair with his good hand and hummed that lullaby his mother taught him eons ago. In a matter of minutes, Emma's breathing evened out and she was asleep.

His best effort wasn't enough because the next thing Killian knew, he was blinking the bright Neverland sun out of his eyes. Reflexively, he reached for Emma but she wasn't there. Killian raised himself on one elbow and caught sight of her at the helm, her back to him. Her golden hair blew gently in the breeze, her short blue leather jacket shined in the sunlight and her jeans and boots clung to her curves enticingly. After staring his fill, he shook his head, trying to erase the fantasy that started to form itself in his brain. Another time, perhaps.

As he rose, Emma laughed. “Wondered how long you were gonna stare,” she commented.

“You knew?” he asked, slipping his arms around her waist from behind.

“I always know,” she replied cryptically.

“Is this a woman's intuition thing?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, I've had a lot of low lifes stare at me.” Killian stiffened ever so slightly. “Part of the bounty hunter gig,” she explained. “Men are so predictable. But I can honestly say no one's ever looked at me the way you do, so you can cut off whatever you're thinking right there.”

Killian huffed. “I wasn't thinking anything.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied, smirking.

“You must be referring to someone else, love,” he said. 

“If it makes you feel better, I'd have kicked their asses for thinking what you were thinking a little while ago.”

That got him to smile. “That would have been a sight.”

“The caveman act is so not attractive,” she said, still not looking directly at him. “That went out the window decades ago, thank god.”

“I love a challenge,” he reminded her. 

“Lucky for me, then,” she said, finally turning in his arms and settling her own on his shoulders.

“You are the best kind of challenge, my love,” he informed her. “Always surprising me.”

“You must be thinking of someone else,” she deadpanned. “Because I am painfully predictable.”

“I beg to differ. You've been surprising me from the minute we met.” Emma flushed. Killian decided to spare her any further embarrassment by changing the subject. “Did you like your first glimpse of Neverland, love?”

She smiled. “It wasn't what I expected, but yeah. It's beautiful, Killian.”

“Have we passed Skull Rock yet?”

“A little while ago. I didn't expect it to be so big,” Emma said, impressed.

Killian smirked. “It's not the only thing in Neverland that's big,” he whispered in her ear. He laughed outright when she swatted at him, annoyed. “I am sorry I missed that though,” he continued, his voice turning serious. “Why didn't you wake me?”

“I didn't have the heart to,” she admitted. “You've been so worried lately, I just wanted to give you a respite from that for a little while longer.”

Her concern for him – after everything she'd been through in the last few days – made his heart ache. Especially considering that all this was his fault in the first place. Killian brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and kissed her gently. He started to pull away, but Emma tugged him back to her. Killian was caught off guard by the fierceness in her kiss, but didn't fight her. He cradled her head with his good hand as she slid her tongue along his bottom lip, demanding entrance. He gave it to her willingly, basking in the way she felt in his arms with their tongues tangling together. Emma tugged gently on his hair, sending a jolt of desire through him. Minx. That passion always simmered underneath the surface, but this would be the worst time to indulge themselves. So before it went too far, Killian pulled away, panting heavily. He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes so he could focus.

“Not that I'm complaining, darling, but what was that for?”

“I can't kiss you good morning now?”

“By all means,” he replied. “That was one hell of a good morning.”

“Might have been a bit of an apology too,” she admitted. “Sorry I didn't wake you.”

He reached up, stroking her cheek. “I didn't know how much I wanted show you Neverland, until I missed it.”

“I thought you hated this place?”

“I was in such a dark place when I was here the first time,” he said quietly. “It was merely a means to an end. But now, being here with you, it could be like seeing it with new eyes. You make me so very happy, my love.”

Emma smiled softly at him, tears threatening. She reached up placing both hands on his cheeks. “I never thought I was capable of making someone happy; I was so unhappy myself. And now here I am happier than I could have ever dreamed. Thank you, Killian.” She leaned in and brushed her lips gently over his, then pulled away. “There's still plenty to see, right?”

Killian grinned. “Too right there is,” he said. “Would you like to do the honors, love?”

Emma nodded. Killian released her and stood directly behind her as she took the wheel. “Now the Mermaid's Lagoon should be coming up on our right soon enough. Probably shouldn't get too close though.”

“You certainly do have a talent for pissing people off,” Emma joked.

“Years of practice,” he shot back.

“Centuries more like,” she countered.

“All of them worth it,” he said, all hint of teasing gone. 

Emma glanced at him, her eyes incredulous. “Three hundred years of pain and loneliness? For me? Don't kid about that, Killian.”

“I'm deadly serious, Emma.”

Emma studied him, much like she did before she trusted him. “You really are,” she said finally. “I know you love me, but Killian, that's huge. It's a lot to take in.”

“You really don't understand just how extraordinary you are, Emma.”

“I'm really not.”

“Bollocks.”

“We'll just have to agree to disagree then,” she said, turning back to the wheel. Killian shook his head. One day, he swore to himself once more, one day she would see what he saw. 

For the next several hours, they circled the island. Killian pointed out all the relevant sights, thoroughly enjoying how Emma's eyes lit up when she saw the real Neverland. In fact, he spent more time watching her than where they were going. Mermaid's Lagoon, Blind Man's Bluff, the Hangman's Tree, the redmen's camp, Pirate's Cove, they saw all of it. It was greener than he remembered; in fact, everything was brighter than he remembered. The ocean was bluer, the trees greener, the exotic plants a riot of color. It was amazing what you could see when you weren't looking through a eyes filled with hatred and revenge.

But giving Emma a tour wasn't their only reason for going around the island. It was a reconnaissance mission as well, a chance to see if everything – and everyone – was as he remembered. They didn't see Peter or the Lost Boys, but that didn't mean they weren't out there. As soon as they saw the Jolly Roger, Killian was certain they would attack. 

“You're worried about Peter, aren't you?” Emma asked, breaking the silence.

“He might not even be here,” Killian pointed out, trying to hide his unease. “Could be he's off on one of his blasted adventures.”

“You don't really believe that though.”

Killian sighed. “No, I don't. We'll have to get through him and his merry band if we're to get to the Hollow, I'm sure of it.”

“You mean me. I'm going to see Titania alone, remember?”

“I'm staying with you as long as I can, Emma,” he said firmly. “We do this together or not at all.”

“You sound like my mother,” Emma observed.

“Snow is a very wise woman, love.”

“Alright, so how do we do this then?”

Killian had been giving that very question a lot of thought since they arrived. There was only one way to the pixies' Hollow that he knew. He was sure there were others but they didn't have the time to search for them. The Hollow was near the center of the island, at the foot of the mountains. The most direct access was via Crocodile Creek – Peter had given it that name as a twisted kind of joke during one of their earliest encounters – and from there it was a rough path through the dense exotic forest. 

He was telling Emma about what not to touch along the path, when she swatted at something absently. Whatever it was, it kept buzzing around her head. “The hell?” she exclaimed. 

Killian pulled her hand down abruptly, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “Stop it, Emma. You'll just piss her off.”

“Piss who off?”

Killian grimaced. “Tinkerbell.” To the pixie, he said, “Might as well give up, Tink. I can see you.”

“What?” Emma cried. “She's here?”

“Just couldn't resist, could you, you blasted pixie,” Killian said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. This was one confrontation in Neverland he did not want. “Peter send you off to do his dirty work for him?”

The bright orange light next to Emma's ear flickered angrily. You have a lot of nerve showing up here, pirate.

“I assure you, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But leave Emma alone, Tink.”

The light flickered again. Why? Who is she to you?

“Damn it, Tink. Emma doesn't speak pissed off pixie. Either become normal sized or get the hell off my ship.”

“You understand her?” Emma said incredulously.

“All too well,” Killian said, pulling Emma to him. The orange light glowed brighter and brighter, even in the sun Killian could see her clearly now. One final flash and the short but normal sized Tinkerbell stood in front of them, hands on her hips and glaring at Killian angrily. She looked just as he remembered her: blond haired, blue eyed and pissed off.

“Holy shit,” Emma breathed, but Killian kept his gaze firmly on the pixie. “Here to shout at me, Tink? I think you've already gotten your revenge for our misunderstanding, yeah?” he said, holding up his hook.

“That's the least you deserve after what you did to me, pirate,” Tinkerbell shot back. 

“I know.”

Tinkerbell blinked. “You know?”

“Aye, I tricked you. But Peter tricked both of us. And yet you're still doing his bidding.”

Tinkerbell's eyes widened. “I am not!” she huffed.

“Then why are you here and not him?” Killian asked astutely.

Tinkerbell frowned, her eyes indecisive. “Because...because...because you abandoned me!” she said triumphantly. “I helped you and you just left me! I thought you cared about me.”

Killian winced. He half expected Emma to step away from him, but she didn't. “I'm sorry, Tinkerbell,” he said finally.

Tinkerbell opened her mouth to yell at him some more, but shut it abruptly. “You what?”

“He's apologizing,” Emma said. “I know you're angry, but you really should hear him out.”

Tinkerbell glared at Emma. Killian instinctively tightened his grip on her. “And you are?” the pixie asked.

“Emma Swan, Killian's fiancé.”

“His what?” Tinkerbell's fingers twitched.

“I swear to all the gods, Tink, if you so much as lay a finger on her...”

Emma looked back at him, annoyed. “Seriously, Killian? Not helping.”

“Pixies are fickle, love. She'd hurt you just to spite me.”

“She's upset, Killian,” Emma pointed out. “I totally understand where she's coming from.”

Killian sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. If they had any hope of getting Tinkerbell to back off and not go running to Peter about his return, then he knew what he had to do. Tinkerbell stared at him, confused. “You've changed,” she said. 

“I haven't changed that much,” he said reflexively.

“Killian...” Emma said warningly.

“I know, I know.” He looked back at Tinkerbell. “I asked for your help under false pretenses and for that I am sorry. But I did not betray you. It was a trap, Tink. A trap laid by your beloved Peter, a trap meant for both of us.”

“Peter wouldn't do that to me,” Tinkerbell shot back.

Killian laughed mirthlessly. “He's as much as jealous creature as you are. He'd turn on you just as sure as my name's Killian Jones.”

“Killian's telling the truth, Tinkerbell,” Emma said. “I swear.”

“How do you know?” the pixie asked. “You weren't there.”

“Because I know when people are lying. It's a...power that I have.”

“Like magic?”

“I do have magic, but the lying thing is different.”

“And you believe him?” Tinkerbell asked. She looked so conflicted. Emma nodded. Finally, she looked back at Killian. Her bottom lip was trembling. “You weren't going to take me with you, were you?”

“No, I wasn't. I don't love you, Tink. I'm sorry.”

Tinkerbell looked from Killian to Emma. “But you love her?”

“Aye, I do. More than anything in the world.”

Tinkerbell paused to think about that. Pixies were literal beings; that's how he got her to trust him in the first place. At the time, his only lie was saying that he would bring her with him. He didn't know it was a trap and when he did, he was too angry to think about Tinkerbell. So he took it out on the nearest target: the Hollow. There was no excuse he could give, nothing he could really do to undo the damage that had been done. All he could do was apologize and hope Tinkerbell would forgive him.

Emma took his hand and squeezed it gently, offering him a small smile. Whatever happened with Tinkerbell, at least he still had Emma. They had trod this road already and she, at least, accepted him.

“Okay, I forgive you,” Tinkerbell said quietly. When Killian looked at her in surprise, Tinkerbell nodded at his and Emma's joined hands. “You're not the same man, Killian, even I can see that. Now Peter on the other hand...”

“Still temperamental ponce?” Killian asked.

Tinkerbell smirked. “Something like that.”

“I know it's a lot to ask after everything,” Emma said hesitantly, “but do you think you could help us? I think we're going to need it.”

They explained to Tinkerbell exactly what they were doing in Neverland and what was at stake. The pixie got paler and paler as they spoke. She fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist nervously. “I don't know how much help I can be,” she said sadly. “Titania won't be happy to see you, Killian.”

“I'm not going, Tink,” Killian said. “Emma is.”

Tinkerbell brightened. “In that case, you'll need a change of clothes.”

“Why?” Emma asked, as Tinkerbell waved her small hand in front of her. “Hey!” The pixie had taken Emma's jacket, shirt, jeans and boots and swapped them for a bright yellow dress made of a light airy fabric Killian had only seen on pixies. Her hair was piled on top of her head, a few tendrils left loose framing her face. Silver heels had replaced her boots. “I can't go traipsing through the forest like this!”

“It's just a glamor, silly,” Tinkerbell said. “I thought you said you were magical?”

“I am,” Emma complained. “I've just never used it on myself.”

“What's the point of that?”

“Exactly what I asked,” Emma said.

“You just need someone to teach you; it's simple,” Tinkerbell informed her. “But for now, just close your eyes and focus on your clothes as you remember them.” Emma closed her eyes. There was a flash and Emma's clothes were back. 

“You did it, love,” Killian said. Emma opened her eyes and looked down at herself, the relief evident.

“Now, raise the glamor again,” Tinkerbell instructed. Emma closed her eyes once more. The yellow dress was back. “I think you've got it!”

Another flash and Emma's real clothes were back. “That's neat trick, I guess,” Emma said dubiously.

“Now you'll look presentable for Titania,” Tinkerbell said happily. “Just raise the glamor when you get to the Hollow and you should be fine.”

“You're not coming?” Killian asked. 

“Someone has to distract Peter,” Tinkerbell pointed out. “He's waiting for you, Killian. They spotted your ship this morning.”

“You'd do that for us?” Killian asked, surprised. The pixie had done a complete about face in the last twenty minutes. Killian was more than a little wary. He was putting Emma's well being in this plan.

“I'm not sure how much time I can buy you, but it should be enough for you to get in at any rate.”

“It's the only plan we've got,” Emma pointed out.

“Because our plans have gone so well so far,” Killian muttered.

Emma stood in front of him, blocking out Tinkerbell. She placed her hands on either side of his face, her lips pressed together firmly. “I'll hate every minute we're separated, Killian. But I can do this. We can't let what happened with Morgan scare us. If we do that, she wins.”

Killian smiled softly, remembering when he'd said the same thing to her about Cora. He stroked her cheek gently. She really was the most extraordinary woman he'd ever met. “Fair enough, love. We'll do this your way.”

 

As they approached the far shore of Crocodile Creek, Emma was beginning to have second thoughts about this plan. The Jolly Roger was anchored in Pirate's Cove; Tinkerbell cloaked it just before she left to distract Peter Pan. Killian and Emma took one of the rowboats up the creek; it was hard work rowing against the current, but they managed. Emma tried to focus on the exotic trees and foliage along the shore, trying to remember all of Killian's edicts about what not to touch.

“Alright there, love?” Killian asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she lied.

“You're nervous,” Killian shot back knowingly. “But you'll be brilliant, as you always are.”

Emma rolled her eyes. It wasn't the magic part that worried her. It was convincing Titania to help them. She'd never been good at public speaking. Or arguing without letting her temper get the better of her. She wasn't a leader the way her father was. She wasn't a calming confident presence like her mother. They should be here trying to convince the Queen of the Pixies to help them save the world, not her. But she was their only option, so Emma was just going to have to suck it up and deal. 

“Here we are,” Killian said quietly. Emma looked up; they had reached the stone Killian had described without her even knowing. Carefully, they climbed out of the boat and beached it. Killian buckled his sword around his waist; apparently only a fool went into the Neverland forest unarmed.

“I wish I had mine,” Emma pouted.

“No offense, Emma, but you're not exactly helpless, even without the sword.”

“Shut up.”

Killian ignored her. “Looks like Tink's keeping her end of the deal,” he observed.

“You didn't expect her to?”

“I told you, pixies are fickle, changeable. Just because she's helping us now, doesn't mean she won't change her mind ten minutes from now.”

“She seemed pretty sincere to me,” Emma said.

“Which is why I agreed to this mad plan, love,” he reminded her. “I trust you implicitly.”

“I think she'll surprise you.”

“Another woman’s intuition thing?”

“Let's just say that she and I both know what it's like to have a thing for a certain pirate,” she joked. In reality, Emma trusted Tinkerbell's word because she saw how the pixie's face changed when she forgave Killian. Tinkerbell saw what Emma saw when she looked at him. A man doing his damnedest to be worthy of his second chance. She wouldn't let them down, Emma was sure of it.

Together, they picked their way along the path. Killian was right; it was rough going. As they neared the mountains, the incline got steeper, the trees thicker. Emma didn't recognize any of them, and she didn't ask. However, she did decide that that vacation she and Killian were taking would be to someplace that did not have trees. Emma Swan was in desperate need of a break from nature. Finally, Emma could see light through the dimness of the forest. About thirty more feet and Killian ducked into the forest to stand behind a particularly thick tree.

“What is it?” she whispered, following him.

“This is as far as I can go, love,” he muttered. He huffed and looked at her. “I bloody hate this.”

Emma gathered him in her arms and hugged him tight. “I know. I do too. But I'll be back soon, okay?”

He kissed her temple lovingly. “Please be careful, my love.”

Emma swallowed thickly. It sounded like a goodbye, even though it wasn't. She would make sure of it. “Don't do anything stupid, okay?”

“Who, me? Of course not, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I love you, Killian Jones.”

“And I love you, Emma Swan.” Emma kissed him once quickly. Then she had to tear herself away before she lost her nerve. She'd be with him again soon enough. And this was important. She could do it.

Emma stepped back on to the trail, following it to the edge of the Hollow. Once there, she looked around to see if anyone was looking. Confident she was alone, she raised the glamor as Tinkerbell had showed her. It got easier the more she did it. Emma looked down, grinning when she saw the yellow dress in place of her jacket and jeans. Piece of cake. Emma moved out into the open, and her breath hitched at the sight before her.

To say it was beautiful would be an understatement. The Pixies' Hollow looked unlike anything Emma had ever seen before. In the center, there was an enormous tree; its greenest of green leaves shimmered in the sun. It reminded Emma of an oak tree, but it wasn't. Underneath its large canopy a tiny village had sprung up. The grass covered ground was dotted with small houses, each with tiny lights flitting around them. Almost like the lightening bugs Emma used to chase as child. There were a few houses on the edge of the village that appeared to be ruinous and abandoned. From Killian's attack on the Hollow, maybe? Emma walked across the clearing carefully, not wanting to inadvertently step on anyone. She wondered which house was Tinkerbell's; she hadn't asked, not thinking it was important. But seeing it now, Emma saw just how out of her element she was. 

Emma was looking around for the knot that would let her into the secret door that led to Titania's hall when she heard a musical laugh from behind her.

“Oh! A visitor!” the voice said happily. “We haven't had a visitor in so long!”

Emma turned around. Standing before her was a pixie, a little taller than Tinkerbell, with dark skin and raven hair. Her gown was palest blue and made of the same material as Emma's. “Hi,” she said cautiously. “I'm a...friend of Tinkerbell's. And you are?”

“I'm Iris,” said the pixie. “Pleased to meet you...?”

“Emma,” she replied, relieved. So far, so good. “My name's Emma.”

“That's a very pretty name,” Iris told her. 

“Thanks.”

Iris shifted from foot to foot. “Um, Tinkerbell isn't here. No one's seen her for a few days. It's nothing to be worried about,” Iris said hurriedly. “She does this all the time. Goes off on adventures with Peter. You do know who he is, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “I know who he is.” This was getting her nowhere. “Sorry, Iris, but I'm not here for Tinkerbell. I'm here to see Titania; I need her help with something, you see.”

“Oh! Are you on an adventure too?”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Something like that. Could you help me?”

Iris's brown eyes lit up. Emma got the feeling this pixie was secretly jealous of Tink's adventures with Peter. “Oh yes! Follow me!”

Emma followed Iris as she walked a quarter of the way around the large trunk and pressed on the knot. It was next to a black scorch mark. Gunpowder burn? Whatever it was, it was the only other evidence Emma had seen so far of Killian's attack on the Hollow. Emma felt a tiny tremor underneath her feet, but she didn't think anything of it as she watched the secret door roll open. Right there in the heart of the tree was a long staircase that led underground to Titania's hall. At least she hoped it did. Silently she cursed Tinkerbell's glamor as they walked down the never ending stairs; Emma was convinced she was going to topple over in those godforsaken heels. Finally, they got to the bottom without mishap.

The corridor was lit with torches; it seemed to grow before her eyes. “It only does that for visitors,” Iris explained. “We don't like to be people sized usually. Too much effort.”

“That's...good to know.” Emma was about to say something else, but Iris was already walking down the corridor. Emma followed; blinking lights flitted past them, zooming in all directions. They were other pixies, Emma realized. There were hundreds of them. A few flashed into what Iris had called “people sized” and spoke to them. Iris was talking animatedly with her friend, Viola, when Emma felt it again. A tremor. That's not the door, she thought.

The ground under her feet started to shake. Emma had never been through an earthquake, but if this is what they felt like then she never wanted to visit California. Little bits of the earthen walls of the corridor shook off, coating them in fine dust. Iris started to shriek, clearly panicked. Viola abruptly flashed back into a tiny dot of light and zoomed away. Emma was unsteady on her heels, flinging an arm out against the wall.

“We have to keep moving!” Emma shouted, pulling off those damn shoes. “If we stay here the whole corridor could cave in.”

Iris looked at her with wild eyes. The poor pixie looked like she wanted nothing more than to join Viola, but as she stared at Emma she steadied. “This way!”

As quickly as they could, Emma and Iris ran down the corridor. The shaking didn't stop. Were earthquakes supposed to go on this long? Emma wondered. If felt like the whole island was shaking above them. Belatedly, she worried about Killian. Where was he? Please let him be safe. 

“Almost there!” Iris shouted.

Finally, they burst out of the corridor and into a large room full of frightened pixies. Some were in their natural state and others were people sized huddling against the rounded walls. The trembling got worse, large pieces of the ceiling started crashing to the floor. Emma looked up in horror as sharp sliver from the ceiling – a piece of the ancient tree root – started to fall right where Iris was standing. Emma flung herself at the pixie, gathering the smaller body against hers as they rolled. The tree root smashed into splinters in their wake.

The shaking stopped as gradually as it started. Once everything was still for more than a minute, Emma felt like it was okay to stand. She released Iris and stood up to brush herself off.

“You saved me,” Iris said in awe.

Emma shrugged, embarrassed. But the other pixies wouldn't hear it. They gathered around Emma en masse and cheered her. And kept cheering. Emma wished they would stop. She was about to tell them so, when a commanding voice broke through the cacophony.

“Let our visitor through, my loves,” the voice said. “It appears she has traveled a long way.”

Emma looked up and saw a disheveled and dirty Titania standing in the middle of the room. Her gown was torn in several places and her dark hair covered in dirt, but it was her. She looked exactly she she had in the Seeing Stone. She was as tall as Emma and beautiful. But her eyes...those gray eyes suffered no fools, Emma could tell. This was going to he harder than she thought.

“I am Titania,” the queen said, ignoring the state of her clothes. “But you already know that.”

Emma blinked, taken aback. Really wasn't a point beating around the bush was there? “I'm Emma Swan,” she replied cautiously. “And yes, I know who you are.”

“You are not from Neverland,” Titania observed.

“How did you...” Emma began, then looked down. The glamor was gone; her own clothes were back. She hadn't even noticed. “Sorry about that. I must have lost it during the quake.”

“You are a practitioner, I presume?”

“A what?”

“Magic, my dear,” Titania said placidly. “You have magic.” There was something about the evenness of her tone that Emma instinctively mistrusted. 

“You do?” Iris exclaimed. “Yay!”

Emma tried to ignore the overexcited pixie. “Look, I had this whole speech planned, but seeing as how the earth is literally shaking to pieces, I'm just going to say it. My world – all the worlds, really – are in danger. And you're literally the only one who can help me.”

Titania – as if nothing had happened – walked over to her throne. “We do not generally involve ourselves in the affairs of men,” the queen informed her. “Why do you think that I can help you?”

“Because you created the Dark One's dagger. I need you to tell me how to destroy it.”

The queen's hand twitched at Emma's mention of the dagger. So that vision had been true. “That dagger left Neverland eons ago,” Titania said dangerously. “What damage it causes out in the world is no concern of mine.”

“Rumpelstiltskin is going to destroy the world. Including Neverland. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“Rumplestiltskin? You are not the first to enter this hall asking about him.”

“He's the Dark One now,” Emma told her, ignoring the reference to Killian. If she mentioned that she knew him, the chances of Titania helping them would be zero. “That quake we just had? Are those normal? Does your hall normally try to shake itself apart? That's a consequence of what the Dark One is planning. Everything is becoming unstable. Hell, even the damn Neverland star is gone.”

At that, the whole hall erupted in disbelieving shouts. Iris looked close to tears. Titania just looked angry. Emma was trying to figure out another tactic when a bright orange light entered the hall. A flash and there was Tinkerbell standing next to her. “What happened? Is she going to help you?”

“Tinkerbell,” the queen said, raising an eyebrow. “You know this Emma?”

Tinkerbell bowed. “I do. She arrived here yesterday. She's my friend.”

“In that case, I will consider it.” Titania sneered, clearing not liking Tinkerbell's choice of friends.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Emma breathed. “The world's about to come crashing down around your heads and you're considering?”

“You are vouched for by a pixie whose judgment has been known to faulty in the past. I believe a degree of caution is warranted.” 

“So it's Tinkerbell's fault now? Do you even care about them at all?” Emma asked, pointing at the uneasy pixies in the hall.

Emma never got an answer to her rhetorical question. Another pixie – this one covered in dirt and blood – came running up to Titania's throne. She whispered something in the queen's ear and Titania's eyes narrowed. She nodded at the pixie. A door on the far side of the hall opened and a gaggle of pixies came pouring through it, pulling on several ropes. Emma recognized the dark hair as it emerged from the doorway. It was Killian. The already frightened pixies scurried away, trying to get as far away from Killian as they could.

He looked terrible. Covered in dirt, he was holding his ribs and wincing in pain. There was blood in his hair and on his shirt. He caught a glimpse of Emma and blanched.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, taking a step toward him. Another step and she banged right into an invisible force field. Emma turned to glare at Titania. “This is not the time to test me, lady.”

“Emma,” Killian gasped. “Please.”

“What did they do to you?” she asked.

“Didn't,” he breathed. “Bloody earth moving.”

“The quake.”

“They found him in one of the tunnels,” Titania said. “Armed.” The queen looked back at Killian. “You knew what the consequences would be if you returned, pirate.”

“Just bloody well get it over with then, you bleeding harpy.”

Emma looked between them, fuming. This was complete crap. She used her anger to blast through the damn force field and knelt at Killian's side. “You're touching him over my dead body.”

“Emma, love...”

“You? Shut up.” She looked back at Titania, determined to stare her down.

“You know, don't you?” the queen said, amused. “You know what he did and yet you defend him?”

“Yes, I know. But he's changed. Killian's not the same man who ruined the Hollow.”

“Men do not change,” Titania said coldly. “They are base, foul creatures.”

“But they do,” Emma insisted. “I did. Killian has.” She looked down at him; his eyes were clouded in pain and worry. She knew he cared more about her safety than himself. She knew he would gladly take Titania's punishment as long as Emma remained safe. She smiled fondly at him, then looked back at the queen. “He thinks I don't see it,” she began quietly. “But I do. Every day. Sometimes it's only for a moment, sometimes it's longer. He gets this look in his eyes; this far away, sad look. Like he's reliving some new horror that I can't even imagine. And it tears him up. The constant fear that he's not good enough for me, that I deserve better. But he's wrong. Everyone has darkness in their soul. I should know. When my son,” Emma paused, taking a deep breath, not wanting to relive those terrible few hours when Henry was dying, “when Henry was dying, I threatened the woman who nearly took him from me. I was as angry as I had ever been in my life and if I hadn't needed her to try and save his life, I think I may have actually done it. Killed her.” Emma paused again, to let that sink in. “Nothing can undo what Killian did. But I do know that it haunts him. And he's sorry. But he can't atone – he can't have a second chance – if you don't give him back to me. So I'm asking you. Please. Give him back to me.”

Emma kept her eyes on Titania. She couldn't look at Killian. She was afraid that if she did, she'd lose it. And she couldn't show weakness, not here. Emma was tired of these people – people who looked down on things like love and faith and trust like they were nothing. Emma had been like that once. She thought that if she kept people at arm's length – or farther – away that she couldn't be hurt. She thought that the loneliness was worth sparing herself the pain of opening up to someone else, of taking a chance. She was wrong. Henry taught her that. Mary Margaret and David taught her that. And it was perfectly embodied in the pirate that lay at her feet. Love was strength, not weakness. 

The entire hall was silent as everyone awaited the queen's decision. Iris cried silently; Tinkerbell looked determined. The silence went on for so long that Emma started to mentally calculate how they could fight their way out if Titania proved to be unyielding. Because there was no way in hell she was leaving without Killian. If talking softly wasn't enough, then Emma was prepared to use the stick.

Titania looked from Emma to Killian and back again. “I am not as heartless as you no doubt imagine me, Emma,” the queen announced. “And since you have saved one of our own,” she continued, nodding at Iris, “I am willing to grant you one favor.”

“Killian,” Emma said clearly. Titania looked at her sharply. “What? You were going to make me choose: the dagger or Killian.” She stood. “I'm taking Killian whether you allow me to or not. So why don't you save your breath and just give me whatever magical doodad destroys the dagger so that we can get the hell out of here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you don't want to die,” Emma said simply.

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I'm merely stating a fact. That earthquake? The one that nearly brought all this down around our heads? It's not going to stop. Rumplestiltskin isn't going to stop. I don't care if you believe me; I don't care if you hate me. You want to stay here until hell freezes over to see if I'm right? Be my guest.”

To Emma's surprise, Tinkerbell came and stood next to her, arms crossed. Iris dried her eyes and stood on Emma's other side. One by one, most of the other pixies in the hall gathered on Emma's side. Emma could almost feel the power behind her, like a river behind a dam. Titania was powerful, certainly. But could she afford to go against every other pixie in Neverland? It meant a lot to Emma to see them all gathered around her in this way. 

Titania looked warily as Emma's impromptu army. Then she sighed. “Very well,” she said heavily. The queen held out her hand; a bit of green smoke and a small pouch lay in her palm. “The dagger was forged from a piece of the Neverland star. This is dust from that same star; when the two meet, the dagger will disintegrate back into its original form. Scatter the remains as far as you can. The power of the Dark One will be broken forever.”

As Emma nodded her acknowledgment, Titania placed the pouch in her hand. “But know this, Emma Swan, you may rid the realms of the Dark One, but there is a price.”

“Magic always comes with a price, I get it.”

“I fear by doing this you may give rise to an even darker force, and it will come for you.”

“Well, I'll just have to kick that one's ass too when the time comes,” Emma said, more confidently than she felt. “But I'm living my life on my terms, thank you very much.” Emma put the pouch of star dust in her pocket. Then she knelt down next to Killian. “Ready to get outta here?”

He just stared at her in awe; it started to make Emma uncomfortable. Then he nodded. “Aye, love.” Tinkerbell ran to Killian's other side and together Emma and Tinkerbell helped Killian to his feet. He winced. “Ow.”

“Here,” Emma murmured, probing his ribs. Two of them were cracked. Emma gave him a dose of her healing mojo; Killian immediately started breathing easier.

“I think I can make it now,” he assured her.

“I'll take a better look at you once we get back to the ship.” 

“Is that a promise, love?” Killian asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You're lucky I love you.”

“I know.”


	14. Chapter 13

“I told you, love, I am fine,” Killian said for about the tenth time.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Aren't you the one always fussing over me when I get so much as a paper cut?” she countered. “Just do as you're told for a change!”

She was sharper than she intended, but he was being so damn _stubborn_. They'd gotten back to the ship in one piece; Tinkerbell was zooming around the _Jolly Roger_ keeping a lookout while Emma tended to Killian's wounds. The pouch of stardust was secured in Henry's backpack, right next to the last two beans. That was something Emma tried not to think about. How were they supposed to get all those objects back to where they were supposed to be with only one bean? Killian, however, was her most pressing problem. She couldn't sail the _Jolly Roger_ through the portal back to Storybrooke without him.

“How did this happen, anyway?” Emma asked, removing his vest and shirt to recheck his ribs.

Killian sucked in a breath and winced when her fingers brushed against his bruised skin. Emma raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Well, the bloody earth was shaking, yeah? I moved a little closer to the Hollow through the forest. Hit the deck when the quake started, and the ground just collapsed under me. Fell into some tunnel, got hit with a flying dirt and rocks. Once the sodding shaking stopped, those bloody pixies found me. I was too out of it to really protest.”

That last bit was alarming. Worriedly, Emma ran a hand over his head. How did you diagnose a concussion? “Killian, look at me,” she ordered. He met her eyes. They weren't glassy or distant or anything. “How do you feel now? Woozy? Dizzy? Anything like that?”

Killian caught her hand in his. “I am _fine_ , love. As long as you're here, I am perfect.”

Emma frowned. “Killian, I'm serious. Are you sure your head is okay? It's not like I can take you to the hospital for a CT or MRI or whatever they do.”

“I was only dazed, Emma. I swear. Honestly, I was more worried about _you_. I'd sent you in there by yourself. If something had happened...”

“But it didn't,” she reminded him. “And didn't we have this conversation?”

He sighed heavily. “I know. And I _do_ trust you. Extenuating circumstances for an earthquake?” he asked hopefully.

Emma gave him a small smile. “I think that's allowed,” she said, moving her hand back down to tend to his bruises. One healing spell later, his skin was back to being perfect and whole. “Now, is there anything else that hurts?”

“Other than my pride?” Killian asked. Emma narrowed her eyes curiously. “You saved my life again, you know.”

Emma shrugged. “Did you really think I was going to let you go that easily?”

“All the same, love, you were _brilliant_.”

“She was being unreasonable. It wasn't that hard.” Which was a lie. As the adrenaline wore off, Emma realized just how close it had been. If Titania called her bluff, things would have gotten _very_ hairy, very fast.

“You defied the Queen of the Pixies, Emma. I can't imagine she's been spoken to in quite that manner before.”

“You should have heard her before they brought you in. She had no intention of giving me answer. She was so _cold._ The world could come crashing down around her and she wouldn't care.”

“Not everyone has your heart, my love.”

Emma scoffed. She was special because she didn't want the world to end? Because she didn't want innocent people to die? She wasn't any more or less good than anyone else. “I'm not as good as you think, Killian.”

“Rubbish,” he retorted. “You gave this broken down old pirate a second chance, didn't you? Not many would.”

“You just needed someone to believe in you, Killian,” she said seriously. “Like I did. You did the rest yourself.”

He blinked several times, almost as if he were blinking back tears. He reached up and cupped her cheek with his good hand, leaning in to kiss her gently. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she said, capturing his lips with hers. She'd almost lost him again. “Try not to scare me like that again, okay?”

“I will do my best, darling.”

Emma got to her feet. It was time to say goodbye to Tinkerbell and get the hell out of this place. She'd had enough adventure for one trip. Emma reached into Henry's backback for a bean. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Definitely.” Killian ducked into the wardrobe to grab a clean shirt, pulling it over his head as he followed her up to the helm.

“Where's Tinkerbell?” Emma asked, looking all over for the diminutive pixie.

“Probably lost interest and took off again,” Killian said absently, turning the wheel to lead them out of Pirate Cove.

“I don't think so,” Emma said. “You saw her; she was right there with me. And she wouldn't let us leave without saying goodbye.”

“Emma, love, you don't know her very well. I do. I'm sure she's fine wherever she is.”

“I'm going to go look for her anyway, okay?”

Killian nodded and turned his attention back to the helm. They were picking up speed, starting to move out of the cove. In a matter of minutes they would be far enough away from the island to use the bean to go home. Finally. Emma tried not to think about how much she was looking forward to getting back to Henry as she searched the deck for any sign of Tinkerbell. Given all the twists and turns their adventure had taken, Emma didn't want to get her hopes up until they were stepping onto the Storybrooke dock.

There appeared to be no sign of the pixie. Maybe Killian had been right after all, she mused. The thought made her sad; she really wanted to thank Tinkerbell for all of her help. Emma started back for the helm when she heard what sounded like a high pitched squeak over her right shoulder. She froze.

“Who's there?” she called. “Tinkerbell, is that you?” A long pause, then definite scuffling sounds. “Killian!” she yelled, adjusting her stance into something more defensive. “You better get down here!”

No sooner had she yelled than she got hit from behind. Emma crashed into the deck _hard_. She distinctly heard something snap. Blinding pain lashed up her arm; Emma rolled clutching her right arm to her chest. In trying to break her fall, she'd broken her arm. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but she had to get up. When she managed to stand, Emma opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by seven small boys, all pointing short swords and daggers at her. The one closest to her had red hair, freckles, and dressed in green from head to foot. He also carried a struggling Tinkerbell under his left arm.

“Peter,” she breathed, even as she winced from the pain. He looked to be no older than Henry, but unlike Henry, Peter had a malicious glint in his brown eyes. He stepped closer to her, the point of his short sword against her shirt.

“Quiet, pirate,” Peter said. “Or I'll gut you like a fish.”

The idea of a ten year old getting the better of her – even with a broken arm – seemed laughable. But she believed him. Nowhere was the mischievous easily distracted boy she'd read about. Peter's eyes were deadly serious. But still, she felt compelled to speak up.

“I'm not a pirate,” Emma said. “I'm a Sheriff.”

Peter frowned. “What's a sheriff?” he asked.

“Someone who locks up people for doing bad things,” she said patiently. Meanwhile, her eyes darted around. Where was Killian? Surely, he'd heard her scream.

Peter's face brightened. “Oh! So am I a sheriff too?”

“I think so,” said one of the other boys cautiously. His compatriots nodded vigorously. Emma groaned inwardly.

“Tootles,” Peter said to the boy who'd spoken, “you and Slightly go look for the pirate. He has to be around here somewhere.”

Tinkerbell continued to struggle in Peter's hold. “Peter! Leave Killian alone,” she squeaked.

“Shut up, Tink,” Peter shot back, yanking on her blond hair viciously. “I have half a mind to make you walk the plank, since you love the pirate so much.”

“How would you do that?” Emma asked. “Tinkerbell can fly.”

Peter looked flustered, as if this was a problem he had not considered. Then he turned his eyes back to Emma. “This is none of your business, Sheriff,” he said derisively. “Once we have the pirate, you can go.”

“Not a chance. Killian's not going anywhere, except home with me.” Where the hell was he?

“Home?” Peter asked, looking genuinely confused. “What's a home?”

If the situation weren't so serious, Emma would have felt sorry for him. He'd been in Neverland so long that he'd clearly forgotten what a home was. Emma – who had been without one for so long – wasn't about to let Peter Pan of all people keep her from hers. “Home for us is Storybrooke. We have to get back to my son. He needs us.”

“You're a mother?” Peter said quietly, lowering his sword a fraction.

“Yes,” Emma said.

“Do you know any stories?” Peter said hopefully. “We've run out.”

Emma looked at him confused for a second. Then she remembered. Wendy, when she'd played mother to the Lost Boys, told them stories. Every night. Emma wondered how long it had been since Wendy had left Neverland. Peter looked so sad. And for the first time, like a little boy. But Emma couldn't let that fool her. He was still holding Tinkerbell. She exchanged a glance with the pixie. Tinkerbell looked up. Emma followed her eyes. There, up in the rigging, was Killian. He held a finger to his lips and smiled faintly. Emma suppressed her grin.

“Sure, Peter,” she said. “I can tell you some stories. Then can we go?”

Peter grinned. “Depends on how much we like your stories, Sheriff. Do you know some _really_ good ones?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught Killian jump off his perch and start to slide down the rope by his hook. “Not as good as his, Peter,” Emma said, before ducking and rolling, ignoring the fresh pain the motion brought. She took two more of the Lost Boys with her, like bowling pins. Killian landed exactly where Emma had been standing seconds before.

“ _You!”_ Peter shouted.

“Aye,” Killian shot back, drawing his sword. “Now if you'll kindly release Tink and get the bloody hell _off_ my ship, Peter, I'd be much obliged.”

“Never!”

“Suit yourself then. Emma, love?” he asked. When he saw her arm, his eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”

“I'll be fine,” she gritted out, getting to her feet. “I really hate Neverland.”

“Agreed,” he said. He took a step toward her but Tinkerbell cried out. Killian turned his head just in time, raising his sword. Peter's blow glanced off and sent the small boy reeling backward.

“I thought you were above such cowardly moves, Peter,” Killian taunted, his eyes flashing blue fire. “Trying to assail a man trying to attend to his lady is very bad form, you know.” He advanced on Peter, but seemed reluctant to actually attack him. At least not while the boy held Tinkerbell.

Emma pushed pasted two more Lost Boys, coming to stand next to Killian. As she watched Peter try and regroup, she had an idea. “Stand back,” she told Killian. She'd never tried this in a pin point kind of way, she didn't want Killian to get hit by any blowback if it went horribly wrong. Doing it with her left hand made it worse, but it was their best shot at getting Tinkerbell away from Peter. Emma held up her left hand, took a deep breath to focus through the pain and shot a narrow beam of magic at the left arm of the leader of the Lost Boys. To her surprise, it connected just as she'd imagined. Peter yelped loudly and let go of Tinkerbell, clutching his arm.

“Sorceress!” Peter screamed. “Lost Boys, to me! Nibs, Curly! On your feet!”

Tinkerbell flew away from Peter like a shot and came to stand next to Killian and Emma, growing to her full, but still short, height. “Peter,” the pixie pleaded. “Don't do this. Just let us go.”

Peter fixed her with a look of pure hate. “You've made your choice, Tink. You sided with the _pirate_ ,” he spat.

“At least Killian didn't hold her hostage,” Emma muttered.

“No, he just abandoned her to be hated by her own people.”

Killian's eyes flashed once more. “You set that trap, you insufferable git. Couldn't stand the fact the Tink chose me, could you? Because that's what you're _really_ afraid of, isn't it? That your little tribe there will see right through you and leave.”

“I'm not afraid of _anything_!” Peter cried, stamping his foot. The remaining Lost Boys had gathered around their leader. Nibs looked furious, Curly looked terrified, the Twins confused and Tootles and Slightly looked back and forth between Killian and Peter as if watching a tennis match. “You...you...you,” Peter stuttered. Then his face hardened and Peter drew his sword once more. “Dark and sinister man,” he said dramatically, “have at thee.”

Emma's eyes narrowed. She knew that line. It was from the story; it was what Peter said to Hook just before their final swordfight, the fight that led to Hook's death. Next to her, Killian raised his sword once more. “It's about bloody time,” he said.

“Lost Boys,” Peter exclaimed. “Attack!”

Tink took off, dodging a blow from Curly's dagger. Emma backed up, conspicuously aware that she was unarmed, except for her magic. Her sword was down in their cabin and with her arm broken, it was useless anyway. As she retreated, Nibs and the Twins advanced on her. They might have blades, but she was nearly three feet taller than them and faster. Emma dashed off, leading them on a chase across the deck. Tinkerbell shot tiny blasts of pixie magic at Curly, Slightly and Tootles, trying to keep them off balance. She was so small, they tried to catch her in their hands, but Tink was too quick. All that happened was lots of shouting and Lost Boys running into one another. Meanwhile, in the middle of the deck, Killian and Peter faced off. Killian had been right; Peter _did_ fly. As Emma leaped over the anchor chain, she saw Peter fly over Killian brandishing his sword, slashing wildly at the pirate.

“Fight me on your feet, you sodding coward!” Killian yelled.

Peter just laughed and came at Killian again. This time Killian was ready for him, thrusting forward and catching a piece of Peter's shirt on his hook. The fabric tore and sent Peter crashing back down to the deck. Emma wanted to call out to Killian, to make sure he wouldn't actually hurt Peter, but she had to trust him. Besides, she had her own problems.

“Emma,” Tinkerbell screamed. “Here!”

Emma turned, just as Tinkerbell – normal sized once again – tossed her an abandoned dagger. Pain laced through her as reached across her body to catch it. Unfortunately, she caught it blade first and the surprisingly sharp blade bit into her flesh, blood blooming across her palm. Ignoring it, Emma tossed the dagger up and caught it hilt first. She dashed up to the helm, where she hoped the remaining Lost Boys would follow.

As she turned around, she saw that she was right. The Twins were in the lead with Nibs hot on their heels. “Surrender, Sheriff,” Nibs said. “And we won't hurt you.”

“Yeah, right,” Emma shot back. “Do you even know why you follow him? Do you care anymore? What would your mother say?”

All three boys blanched. One of the twins' lip trembled. But Nibs shook his head furiously. “We have no mother anymore, all thanks to that pirate. If you're on his side then, you are the enemy.”

“That wasn't Killian's fault,” Emma shot back. “She just wanted to go home.”

“Peter should have killed that pirate when he had the chance!” Nibs cried. Face full of fury, Nibs came at her, dagger raised. But Emma was taller and deflected it easily, even with her left hand. She spun around and kicked Nibs' legs out from under him. The boy fell, his dagger skittering away across the deck. Emma took a few steps toward the Twins, but they both burst into tears and dropped their weapons. To Emma's shock, they threw themselves at her and started to cry. _Well, that was anticlimactic,_ Emma thought. Keeping a wary eye on Nibs, Emma patted both boys on the back awkwardly, until their tears died away. As gently as she could, Emma pried herself away from them; there was an eerie silence coming from where she knew Peter and Killian had been fighting.

When Emma climbed down to the main deck, she saw Killian and Tinkerbell tying Peter securely to the mast. The boy appeared to be more or less unharmed, except for a bruise on his cheek. Emma raised a brow at Killian.

“Don't look at me, love,” he said, stepping back. “That was all Tink.”

“That was for the trap,” Tinkerbell informed her. “I feel better now.”

“I'm glad someone does,” Emma muttered. “So what do we do with them?”

“Tink, if I give you one of the rowboats, can you make sure they get back to the island?”

Tinkerbell nodded, but Emma shook her head. “But they fly, don't they?” she asked.

“We'll take Peter back,” a tiny voice said. Emma turned around; it was Tootles. He fidgeted under Emma's stare. “Please, Sheriff,” he continued. “could you tell us a story first? Just one? We'll be good.”

Not quite so fearsome without Peter, now, were they? Her arm still hurt like a bitch. Killian wrapped up her bleeding hand, glancing darkly at Nibs and the Twins. Still, Emma could feel her resolve crumbling. “Alright, _one_ story.Then we really have to get going.” The remaining six boys gathered around her and she settled them down on the deck. She felt Killian kiss the top of her head, as she began to tell them her story. It was about a little girl who grew up all alone until she moved to a magical town, where she found friends and her long lost family. And how the girl incurred the wrath of the Evil Queen and fell into an unknown land where she met a pirate. They fell in love and the Evil Queen's even more evil mother tried to tear them apart, but together the lost princess and the pirate stopped her and lived happily ever after. The boys sat enraptured as she told it and for the first time Emma realized that Henry was right all along. Her and Killian's story _was_ a fairy tale.

“That was a very kind thing you did, love,” Killian said, as he pulled her into a hug – careful of her arm – after the Lost Boys and Peter had left.

“I just told them about us,” she said. “No big deal. If I were really kind, I'd have offered to bring them home with us.”

“When you've been here as long as those boys have, you have to _want_ to leave Neverland, darling. We may have bested Peter this time, but they'll forget in a few days and be back at his beck and call.”

“Still, it's so sad. When Peter asked me what _home_ was...I remember not having one, Killian. I only knew what it was because I didn't have it, but it's been so long for him.”

“Aye, but you do now, love. We both do.”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, can we go now? Cause I really want to get out of here.”

Killian shook his head. “Not until we get that arm fixed, Emma.”

“I can't do the magic on myself, remember?” Well, it was more that she hadn't _tried_. Bringing up a glamor Tinkerbell put on her was a lot different than mending her own broken arm.

Tinkerbell appeared next to her. “Don't be silly, Emma. Of course you can! Remember what I told you about the glamor?”

“Yeah. But this is completely different!”

“No, it's not. You just need to believe in yourself.”

“Fine,” Emma huffed. “But if I pull a Gilderoy Lockhart, I'm going kill both of you.”

“Who?” Killian and Tink asked together.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nevermind.” Instead, she raised her arm. The break hadn't broken the skin, thank goodness. The pain had dulled to the point where she could take it. She focused on it, the way she did when she was mending Killian or Henry. Gently, she unwrapped her left hand and laid it on the sorest spot, hoping that's where the break was. Nothing happened. She concentrated harder. Still nothing. “It's not working,” she complained. “I told you.”

“Emma, I've seen you do everything you've put your mind to. I know you can do it. Come now, love.”

“Alright, alright,” she muttered. Emma refocused her energy on her arm, willing it to heal itself. A second later, her hand started to glow. It was the strangest sensation, almost as if she could _feel_ the magic racing along her veins. After the glow faded – and the pain with it – Emma held her arm up. Then she checked her bleeding hand; the cuts had closed. “Well, I'll be damned.”

Tinkerbell just beamed at her. “I knew you could!” Then the pixie burst into tears. “I don't want you to go” she wailed.

“But we have to, Tink,” Killian said. “We have to stop Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Killian!” Emma admonished. She turned to Tinkerbell. “Thanks, Tinkerbell. For everything. We couldn't have done it without you.”

Tinkerbell blushed. “I think you would have managed. But I'm glad to help.” The pixie looked down, fidgeting. “Emma, could I have a word with Killian before you go?”

Emma blinked. “Um, sure. I'll be right back.” Emma headed down the stairs and out of earshot. Even though it was stupid, she couldn't help the tiniest twinge of jealousy that settled in her stomach. Even though Killian didn't think of Tinkerbell that way – and never had – Tinkerbell's feelings for _him_ were very real. Not that she blamed Tink in the slightest. Killian could be _very_ charming when he wanted to be. It had taken all of her strength to keep him at arm's length for as long she did. Still, Emma had said goodbye to Neal; it was only fair she allow Tinkerbell that same chance.

After a few minutes of aimless pacing, Emma returned to the helm. Killian and Tinkerbell were laughing. Killian's eyes lit up when he saw her. “I was getting ready to send out a search party for you, love,” he said, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her temple. Turning back to Tinkerbell, he said, “Thanks, Tink. You stay out of trouble now.”

Tinkerbell laughed. “You be good to each other,” she said, smiling. Then she shrunk down and zoomed off.

“She's...something else,” Emma said.

“Aye. I'll admit it. I underestimated her.”

“Told you,” Emma said smugly.

“That you did. One of the many reasons I love you, darling.” He took her hand. “Come on, love. Let's go home.”

 

As the _Jolly Roger_ emerged from the portal, Killian looked around, trying to get his bearings. If they had done this properly, Storybrooke should be somewhere off to port. He nudged the ship around and there it was; Storybrooke's skyline still marred by the blackened remains of the clocktower.

“Finally,” Emma said, loosening her grip on him slightly.

“Good to be home?” Killian asked.

“Definitely. I wonder if Henry will be waiting for us.”

“Well, if Merlin's vision was right, then the lad's probably spent most of the last few days at the docks.”

Emma rested her head on his shoulder. “I'd forgotten about that. Damn it. I hate being away from him.”

“I know, love. We'll be there soon enough.”

Emma went down to their cabin to grab their packs while Killian docked the ship. He was tying the old girl off, when Emma came down the gangplank. Killian took his from her carefully, mindful not to use his hook, remembering what Tinkerbell had told him. He still couldn't believe it; even now he was afraid to get his hopes up. Emma noticed nothing, however. She was looking around for Henry. He knew the second she did; she broke out into a grin and started to run. Killian took off after her. Their heavy footfalls on the wood caused Henry to look up. The lad blinked, then grinned. He threw his book aside and ran.

“ _Mom! Dad!”_

Killian almost stopped dead in his tracks. Dad? Was that was Henry had called him? No, he must have heard wrong. That just didn't make sense. Killian shook it off and continued following Emma. A few feet and Henry jumped into his mother's waiting arms. Emma hugged him tightly, stroking the lad's hair fondly. Killian knelt down next to them and hugged them both. Father or not, he'd missed Henry as well.

“Grams and Gramps were starting to worry,” Henry said against Emma's shoulder. “But I never did. I knew you'd be back.”

“I'm so sorry we were gone so long, Henry,” Emma said. “We didn't mean to be.”

“It's okay,” Henry said, raising his head. “You're here now. Did you get it? That plant for Mr. Gold?”

“Aye, lad,” Killian said. “We did. And some stories as well. You'll never guess who we met.”

Henry's eyes went wide. “Oh! _Who?”_

“Well, King Arthur for one. And Merlin.”

“Really, Dad?” Henry cried. “ _Really?”_

Killian froze. So he _hadn't_ been hearing things. Emma must have seen the look on his face. “Oh, Henry,” she said worriedly. “We talked about this. I don't think Killian's ready for that yet.”

Killian looked at her, nonplussed. She _knew_ about this? Henry worried his lower lip between his teeth, suddenly afraid he'd said the wrong thing. The last thing Killian wanted to do was make the lad uncomfortable. He'd been through enough. “You may call me whatever you wish, Henry,” he said, smiling hopefully.

“You mean it?” Henry said. Killian nodded. Henry's grin threatened to split his face in two. The lad threw himself at Killian hugging him tightly. “I missed you,” Henry whispered.

“I missed you too, lad.” Killian looked past Henry at Emma. She was biting her lip, trying not to cry. “Thank you,” she mouthed. He smiled tentatively at her, simultaneously happy and worried. There was still so much that could rip all this away from him. He just hoped he was up to the task.

They were walking back to the apartment when David and Snow came running. “Emma! Killian!” Snow yelled. “You're back!”

David shook Killian's hand enthusiastically and clapped him on the back, while Snow hugged Emma. Then to Killian's surprise, Snow pulled him into a hug as well. “I'm so glad you're safe,” Snow said. “Both of you.”

“Gramps, Dad says they met _Merlin and King Arthur!_ ” Henry exclaimed. “How cool is that?”

David's eyebrows shot up at hearing Henry refer to Killian as “dad,” but he didn't say anything. “Sounds like you two had quite the adventure,” David remarked, looking at Killian curiously. Killian just shrugged. No one was more surprised than he was.

“Can we save storytime for when we get home?” Emma asked, running her fingers through her hair. “I just want to sit on my own couch.”

“Emma, what's that?” Snow said knowingly, pointing at Emma's left hand.

Emma looked down and went scarlet. “Oh, that.”

“Isn't that Grams ring?” Henry said.

“Killian gave it to me, Henry,” Emma explained. “We're getting married.”

“ _Yes!”_ Henry cried.

Snow and David just grinned. “Didn't waste any time there, did you, pirate?” David said.

“Your wife was most insistent,” Killian replied. “I'm just grateful Emma said yes.”

“Look, we'll tell you the whole story. I swear. But I really want to go _home_.”

Once the five of them were settled in the apartment, Emma and Killian told their story. They tried to keep the recounting of the more harrowing moments to a minimum; they didn't want to frighten Henry. By unspoken agreement, they made no mention of Emma's almost death. Snow raised an eyebrow at the way Morgan just seemed to disappear, almost as if she _knew_ there was more they weren't saying. Killian had zero desire to relive those minutes where he thought Emma was lost forever; if it were never mentioned again, he would be content. Henry was most enthusiastic about Merlin and Tinkerbell. The lad made Killian get up and reenact his swordfight with Peter Pan, with David doing running commentary. Snow got up and made Emma some hot chocolate, thereafter sitting quietly with her daughter. While Killian and David talked about Gawain and Camelot, Killian saw Snow gasp quietly on the other side of the room. He knew that Emma had told her what happened with Morgan.

“What's wrong, Grams?” Henry asked, as he examined the knight and pirate dolls they had brought back from Emma's nursery.

Snow wiped at her eyes hastily. “Nothing, Henry. Everything's fine. I'm just happy Emma and Killian are home.”

That seemed to appease him. David looked at his wife curiously, but Snow shook her head. Killian wondered how David would take the news that his beloved only child nearly died. Maybe he should just let the prince get a swing at him now, just to be safe. Gods knew he deserved it. “Something happened, didn't it?” David asked quietly. Swallowing, Killian nodded. “Do I really want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Then don't tell me,” David said promptly. “Both of you are back safely. That's what matters to me. I knew you would look after each other.” David looked back at Emma and smiled. “I'm glad she has you, Killian,” David said, nodding at Emma. “She's been through so much; no one deserves to be happy more than her.”

“She's an amazing woman,” Killian said seriously. “I'm just lucky she chose me. I don't deserve it.”

“I know exactly how you feel, Captain,” David said, sparing one last glance at Snow and Emma. “If I didn't say it earlier, welcome to the family.”

“Thanks, David.”

“So when are you going to take Gold his weed?”

“It's late,” Emma said. Killian looked out the window. It _was_ dark. “That bastard can wait until tomorrow. Besides, I want to make sure he doesn't renege on his end of the deal.”

“What's that?” Snow asked suspiciously.

“He promised to return Killian's hand.”

“Really?” Henry asked. “He has it?”

“Aye, lad. I saw it in that shop of his before we left.”

“Emma, I don't know,” David said worriedly. “Are you sure it's a good idea to provoke him?”

Emma stood up. “We're doing this. I've had enough of him trying to dictate other people's lives. I'm getting Killian's hand back. Then we're ending this.”

“How?” Snow asked.

“We'll explain it all _after_ I get Killian's hand back. I don't know about you guys, but I'm tired of playing the victim to that monster.”

“Emma,” Snow began.

“I think you should trust Emma,” Killian interjected. “We've given this a far bit of thought. This isn't a whim. Or revenge. Didn't you tell me that Rumpelstiltskin would one day be held accountable, Snow?”

Snow bit her lip, but nodded. “Fair enough, Captain. Do you want us to come with you when you confront Gold, Emma?”

“No, Killian and I will go. But thanks.”

“Mom,” Henry began.

“No, Henry. You're going to school. Tomorrow is a school day, right?”

Henry nodded glumly. “But can't I spend the day with you? You just got back.”

Emma knelt down in front of her son. “As soon as all this dies down, we're going to take that vacation. You, me and Killian. We'll go wherever you want. Deal?”

Bribery was a good tactic for all ages. Henry still didn't look _thrilled_ but he agreed. Emma sent him off to get ready for bed. Then she hugged her parents. “Do you mind covering the station one more day, David?”

“Of course not, Emma. But if Gold gives you any trouble, you call, okay?”

“Yes, Dad,” Emma said, smiling.

“We love you, Emma,” Snow said. “Just be careful.”

“I love you guys too. We'll see you tomorrow.” After they left, Emma leaned heavily against the door. “That was draining,” she observed.

“You told Snow, then?”

Emma looked at him. “Yeah. I had to. She's my mother, Killian.”

“David asked me if something happened, but didn't really want to know. I thought he might punch me if he found out.”

“Killian, it's not your fault.”

“You keep saying that, but I can't help how I feel, Emma. All this is happening because of me.”

“No, this I happening because Gold can't accept the truth. I don't regret choosing you. I'd do it again.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “So stop beating yourself up, that's an order from your sheriff.”

“In that case, how can I refuse?” Killian snarked.

“Simple. You can't. Unless you want to get fired.”

“We wouldn't want that now, would we?” He laced his fingers with hers and led them toward Henry's room. It was time to tuck their son in and get a good night's rest. Killian had a feeling they were going to need it.

 

The next morning – once Henry was safely off to school – Emma and Killian went to Rumplestiltskin's shop. Emma carried the bag that held the Mnemosyne's bramble, the thing they had left Storybrooke for in the first place. Going in there and not trying to wring the sodding imp's neck was going to take all of Killian's self control. Knowing what he did now, he hated Rumpelstiltskin more than ever. He was willing to destroy the world just to regain his son's love. It was insane.

“This doesn't need to get ugly, Killian,” Emma reminded him. “We kept our end of the deal.”

“Rumplestiltskin has a nasty habit of finding loopholes in his dealings, love,” Killian reminded her.

“I know. Which is why we can't give him any reason to suspect we know anything. If he thinks we're on to him, this whole thing could do sideways. Don't let him bait you.”

“Maybe it would be better if I stayed here.”

Emma shook her head. “We do this together, right?”

Killian nodded. “As you wish, my love.”

The bell jangled when they pushed open the door. “Gold?” Emma called. “We're back. And we got your weed.”

Rumplestiltskin limped through the door at the back of the shop. “Ah, Miss Swan. I was beginning to think the ogres had gotten you, dearie. That would have been a pity.”

“How's Belle?” Emma asked, stepping further into the shop.

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “There's been no change. But I've been gathering the other things I need for the potion that will restore her to me. All it needs is the bramble. You got it, I trust?”

Emma held up the clear plastic bag. “Right here.” The imp reached out for it, but Emma pulled it away. “You get it after you've given me Killian's hand.”

“You doubt me, Miss Swan?”

“I think you're a selfish bastard who enjoys making other people miserable,” Emma said. “And this wouldn't be the first deal you've gone back on, is it?”

Rumplestiltskin glared at her. “I've only reneged on one deal, dearie. Ever. Lucky for you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“My son,” Rumplestiltskin said, as if it were obvious. “You wouldn't have my grandson if I hadn't done that.”

“You leave Henry out of this,” Killian snarled.

“A boy needs his father, wouldn't you agree, Captain? I suppose you wouldn't seeing as yours left you.”

Killian growled and Emma tightened her grip on his hand. “Henry has a father,” she said clearly. “Killian's his father in every way that matters.”

“A pirate? As father to my grandson? Surely, you're joking, Miss Swan.”

“As opposed to what?” Killian said angrily. “A man who abandoned his mother and sent her to jail?”

“He didn't have a choice!” Rumplestiltskin said hotly.

“Wrong, Gold,” Emma informed him. “You _always_ have a choice. And Neal chose wrong. Now are you going to give me Killian's hand, so that you can get Belle back? Since she seems to be the only one who can stand you.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at them for a long time. Finally, he moved to one of the cases and opened it. The imp pulled out Killian's hand and held it out. “Take it, little good may it do you, Miss Swan.”

Emma let go of Killian just long enough to swap the bramble for his hand. She cradled it against her chest and reached for his good hand. “Let's get out of here, Killian.”

Killian had no desire to gainsay her. They turned and left the shop. Once they were out of earshot, Killian's anger spilled over. “The gall of him. He _knows,_ Emma. He made you squirm just because he could! Bringing Henry into it like that! Thinking his sodding son is fit to be a father to him. After what he did? And that's not even counting when that wanker showed up here and tried to steal Henry's things.”

“He just did that to get a rise out of you,” Emma pointed out. “And it worked.”

“He's lucky he's still alive,” Killian countered.

“You couldn't kill him even if you wanted to, we don't have the dagger. And even then, I don't want to marry the Dark One, got it?”

Killian took a deep breath, knowing perfectly well that she was right. Rumplestiltskin wasn't worth it. What awaited him was a fate worse than death. Killian would have to be content with that.

Rather than go to the station, they went home. They sat on opposite sides of the dining room table and stared at his hand. “I can't believe it,” Killian said quietly. “After all this time...”

Emma looked at him sadly. “I'm just sad we can reattach it somehow. I never told you, but I tried once to undo Tinkerbell's curse. When it didn't work, I just figured it wasn't meant to be.”

Killian smiled, touched that she tried regardless of the outcome. “Tinkerbell did something for me, love.”

“What?”

“Well,” he said, scratching at his neck with his good hand, “it's probably better if I show you.” Emma looked at him curiously, waiting. Killian reached for her hand and placed it over the contraption that held his hook for more lifetimes than he cared to admit. There was a blinding flash and his hook fell to the table with a loud clunk.

“Bloody pixie,” Killian muttered as he blinked his vision clear. Then his eyes focused on his stump, Emma's hand hovering over it. It looked the same as it had the last time he'd seen it, all ugly and scarred. Emma's eyes widened and tentatively she lowered her fingers to the ruined flesh. It had been centuries since anyone but him had touched it and Killian felt his skin tingle under her exploratory touch.

“Oh, Killian,” she said softly. “I am so sorry.”

“Rumplestiltskin thought he was getting his precious bean, but I had switched hands when he wasn't looking,” Killian explained. “After he...after Milah died, he used my sword to cut it off. I swore that I would find a way to kill him. He wished me luck finding a way to live long enough, then left thinking he had what he'd come for.”

“But he didn't.”

“I took the hook I'd tried to stab him with and attached it to my ruined arm with that,” he explained, gesturing to his hook. “There was only one place I knew that would give me the chance to live long enough to get my revenge...Neverland. I tossed the bean into the ocean and didn't look back.”

That was the clinical explanation of what happened. How could he describe the hard black emptiness that filled him after Milah's death? How could he describe the rage? It had been a part of him for so long, but there were times now that it felt more like a bad dream. Emma had done that. She had brought him back from that pit, just with her mere presence. She was what he'd gone to Neverland for, he understood that now. In trying break him, Rumplestiltskin had brought him his greatest strength.

“All because Milah chose you,” Emma said quietly. “As awful as it is, we're here now. And he's trying again because _I_ chose you. _Why?_ ”

“I don't rightly know, love,” Killian said. “He's a coward, trying to manipulate people into making the world as he believes it should be. In his mind, I stole his wife. And now I'm stealing his son's lover.”

“That's not true. No one decides who I should be with except _me,_ ” Emma said vehemently.

“Luckily for me,” Killian said, smiling. “I don't know what I'd do without you, Emma.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Emma replied, cocking a brow at him. “I'm sure you'd have them lined up around the block.”

“Lass, there's only one woman for me. And I'm looking at her.”

Emma smiled. “You ready for this?” she asked, gesturing to his hand.

“I have complete faith in you, love,” he said, confidently.

“Alright,” Emma said, blowing out a breath. She stood up and came around behind him. She reached out and lined his hand up with the stump of his arm. “Hold still,” she ordered, then paused. “You might want to close your eyes.”

Obediently, Killian closed his eyes. If it made her feel better, he would have done whatever she asked. He kept as still as he could, knowing how nervous Emma was. Unless it was an emergency, she was still reluctant to use her powers, other than the odd healing spell. Killian got the feeling that she was only scratching the surface of what she was capable of, but he also understood her fear. All he could do was be there for her and encourage her.

He felt her fiddle with his arm again, trying to position it just right. Then he felt the end of his arm come into contact with the end of his hand. Emma placed both of her hands around the fusion point and sucked in a breath. “Here we go,” she said.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then behind his closed eyelids, Killian saw a blinding light. He could feel a searing heat at the end of his arm and cried out in shock, but he kept still. He was breathing heavily; it didn't _hurt_ exactly, but it was definitely the strangest thing he'd ever felt. A few moments more and the light died away. Emma pulled her hands away and gasped. Afraid now to open his eyes, Killian tentatively raised his left arm. It certainly felt heavier. He tried moving his fingers. The muscles there flexed as if his hand had never been missing. But Killian still didn't trust it; he'd had phantom movement there for the first century or so after Milah's death. When his nightmares had faded, so had the pain.

“Come on, open your eyes,” Emma muttered. “Please.”

Killian did as she asked. He gulped. Right there as if he'd never lost it was his left hand. He just stared at it, like he'd never seen it before. Then he flexed each finger, feeling the movement. He curled his hand into a tight fist before opening it and turning his hand over. He bit his lip trying to hold back the wealth of emotion that threatened over overwhelm him. He never imagined that anything like this would be possible. But Emma had a habit doing that, showing him the impossible.

Emma. He looked up at her with awe. She stared back at him, smiling with relief and joy. Killian stood up and reached for her. It was only right that she be the first thing he touched with his newly returned hand. His fingers grazed her cheek; her skin was warm and soft. Gently, he traced her face with his hand; it felt like getting to touch her for the first time all over again. She smiled wider when he threaded his fingers through her hair, reaching up to run her hand over his forearm and his wrist.

“Thank you, my love,” he said earnestly, staring into her sea green eyes. “I will find a way to repay you, I swear it.”

Emma raised a hand to his cheek. “Just stay with me,” she said. “That's all I need.”

As if he could ever leave her. She was his shining light, his entire world. And now she'd given him back that part of himself that he'd believed to be lost forever. Killian cupped both of her cheeks in his hands and kissed her fervently. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise, but quickly recovered and kissed him back, her hands winding around his neck pulling him closer.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips. “So much.”

“I will do everything in my power to make you happy, my love,” he said, trailing his lips along her jaw.

“You already do, Killian,” she told him. “Just by being here.” She tugged on his hair, forcing his head up. Then she reached for his left hand, twining their fingers together. “See?” she said. “This is us, how we'll always be from now on. You and me, together.”

He stared at their joined hands, then he turned his eyes back to hers. “I love you, Emma. More than you know.”

“I think I can guess,” she teased.

“I doubt that, darling.” And he leaned in to capture her lips with his once more. As their tongues tangled together, Killian moved his left hand to touch her. He slid his hand down along her neck and side, pausing to brush his fingers over her breast. Emma moaned softly as he teased her through her shirt.

His lips dropped to her throat and Emma mewled in complaint. “Killian,” she breathed. He nipped at her pulse point as his hand moved lower, slipping underneath her shirt. It was his turn to gasp when he felt the warm soft skin of her stomach. The muscles there trembled beneath his touch. “Gods, love,” he murmured against her skin. “You feel amazing.”

Emma reached down crossing her arms to pull the offending shirt over her head. Her pale perfect skin called out him; the need to touch her overwhelming. Killian glanced at the clock; it was late morning, they had hours until Henry came home from school. Emma reached for him, bringing his left hand to rest over her heart. It beat strong and fast under his palm. “It's alright,” she said. “I want you too.”

“Here?” he questioned.

“Appropriate, don't you think? Our first time was on a table too,” she reminded him.

He grinned. “Don't think I'm likely to ever forget that night,” he told her. “You were incredible.”

“You had said we would be brilliant together. I just wanted to see if you were right.”

“And was I?”

“I'm still here, aren't I?”

“Aye. And as enchanting as ever, my love.” He lifted her onto the table top and stood between her splayed thighs. “Is this what you wanted, Emma?” he murmured against her neck, his tongue flicking out over her skin. “For me to make you mine, like I did that night?”

Emma wove her fingers into his hair, moaning softly. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

“Very well,” he replied, dragging his hands up her sides. Gently, he slid the straps of her bra down her arms, then reached behind her, unhooking it with his right hand. Eventually, he wanted to be able to do that with his left, but that would have to wait. He'd get plenty of practice eventually. Once the offending cloth was loose, Emma pulled it down and off, tossing it on the floor. Killian ran his left hand down along her spine and Emma shivered.

“How do you do that to me? It's never been like this,” she said absently, running her hands over his still clothed chest. “Not with anyone but you.”

Killian growled and he thrust hard against her. “Do you want a dose of the possessive pirate, love?” he said.

Emma's fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it out of his pants. As she deftly worked the buttons, she grinned at him wickedly. “Maybe I do.”

Killian groaned. “Minx.”

Emma slid his shirt off his shoulders and for the very first time it didn't catch on his hook as it fell to the floor. Before Emma could do anything else, Killian pushed her back onto the table and bent over her. He slid his hands up her torso, flicking his fingertips over both of her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and Emma groaned, pushing her chest further into his hands. It felt incredible to be able to touch her with _both_ of his hands; her warm supple skin putty as he worked her over. He kissed the valley of her breasts before moving to take a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh god,” Emma gasped. Her hands flew to his head, holding him there. He sucked her nipple gently, flicking it with his tongue. His left hand massaged the other, pinching the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger. Emma arched further into his touch. “Fuck, Killian.”

“Soon, my love,” he said. Her skin was becoming overheated and flushed. He wondered just how far he could push her before she was begging. He kissed his way down her stomach, his left hand sliding between her legs. Even through her jeans, she was warm. Instinctively, Emma ground her hips into his hand, desperate for some kind of friction. She whimpered when he pulled his hand away, but he unbuttoned her pants and dragged the zipper down. Cottoning on, Emma lifted her hips for him to slid her pants down. He watched her breathing heavily as he pulled off her shoes, socks and pants. He kicked off his own boots for good measure.

As he stood up, Emma ran her foot along his leg. “These really should come off,” she said huskily.

Killian groaned. She wasn't wrong; his pants were painfully constricting as it was. Still, Killian shook his head. “I'm giving the orders today, love,” he said in a low voice, dragging his hands along the inside of her thighs. “Unless, of course, you want me to stop.”

Emma shook her head vigorously. Killian grinned approvingly and reached for the last piece of cloth that separated her from his needy fingers. He curled his fingers underneath that waistband and yanked; it came free easily. Hook or not, he was probably always going to have penchant for ripping her clothing. It was just too much fun and Emma made the most exquisite sounds when he did.

A cry tore itself from her throat and Emma bucked her hips against him. He chuckled and knelt between her legs, pulling her gently to the edge of the table. He placed his right hand on her stomach to keep her still while his left slid over her sodden folds. Emma mewled, trying in vain to move her hips. “Keep still, darling,” he told her.

“Killian, _please_ ,” she moaned.

He slipped two fingers inside her and Emma gasped. She was hot and wet and tight around them; it felt incredible. Slowly, he moved them in and out of her, watching her face. Emma was biting her lip to keep from crying out, her hands scratching at the table, desperate for something to hold on to. Killian pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and added a third finger, curling them inside her trying to find that spot. Unused to this angle, it took him a few more seconds than usual, but he knew he was successful when Emma moaned his name. Killian could feel her release approaching; her whole body was taut, her inner muscles fluttered around his fingers. To drive her that last little bit to edge, Killian sucked her sensitive nub into his mouth hard. Emma's thighs clamped around his head as her release hit, screaming his name.

He stroked through it, trying to draw out her pleasure as long as he could. Emma panted harshly, reaching for him. She caught his hand in hers and tugged weakly. He brushed a kiss at the apex of her thighs before removing his fingers and straightening. Emma raised herself up and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Then she pulled back and raised his left hand to her lips. One by one she took his fingers into her mouth and licked them clean.

“You are wicked, love,” he groaned. Killian moved his right hand down and practically tore his pants in his haste to get them off.

“And what are you going to do about it?” she shot back.

“Take you until you're been well and thoroughly fucked,” he growled.

Emma's eyes fluttered closed. “Do you promise?” she asked.

Killian positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward, bringing their hips flush. “Aye,” he gritted out. “I promise.”

Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “I need you,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Please.”

The way she felt around him, the sounds she made, how her skin felt underneath his fingertips...he wanted to freeze this moment, where nothing and no one could touch them, where she would be his always. But he needed to move. His body was desperate for hers. Slowly, he started moving inside her, holding her close to him and kissing her senseless. Gradually, he picked up the pace, his left hand slipping into her hair tugging on it. Emma angled her head and Killian dipped his lips to her throat, licking and nipping at her sweat coated skin.

“Faster, Killian,” Emma moaned, her hands going to his hips and sling over his backside. She rocked her hips toward him, trying to show him what she wanted.

“Gods, love,” he said, groaning. He did as she asked, needing her just as much. He could feel his release start to coil in his stomach, he wanted to drive her over the edge first. His movements became harder, rougher and Emma cried out. Her nails dug into his skin and he growled. Killian snaked his left hand between them as he held her steady with his right. He brushed his fingers over the bundle of nerves and Emma gasped. He pressed harder and she cried out. _“Killian,”_ she yelled as her release washed over her.

Killian thrust one final time before he was there too, shouting hoarsely. He panted heavily, holding Emma against him, unwilling to let her go. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder as she stroked his back. Much like that first time, all Killian wanted to do now is take her to their bed. But it was farther away this time, he would need a few more minutes to gather his strength for such a move.

“You are incredible, Emma,” he said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

“I didn't do that all by myself, you know,” she said smiling.

“So what's the verdict then?” he asked. “Are we a brilliant together as I promised?”

Emma licked her lips and slid her fingers through his hair. “Preliminary findings might lean in that direction,” she teased. “A few more experiments couldn't hurt though.” She hoped off the table and grabbed his left hand. “Unless you're not up for it?”

“A bloody siren, you are,” he said, as he allowed her to tug him toward their bedroom.

Several hours later, as Killian was getting out of the shower, he heard a knock at the door. “I'll get it,” Emma called. She was dressed already, getting ready to collect Henry from school. Killian dried himself off and dressed quickly. He couldn't tell who it was, if it were family, they'd have called out a hello. What he saw when he stepped out of the bedroom made him stop in his tracks.

It was Grace. The little girl looked tired and a bit worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed. Her eyes widened when she saw Killian.

“It's okay, Grace,” Emma said soothingly. “It's just Henry's dad. You remember Killian, right?” The girl nodded.

“Emma, what's going on?”

Emma looked up at him, wrapping an arm protectively around Grace. “It's Jefferson,” she said. “He's back.” 


	15. Chapter 14

On the way to the sheriff's station, Emma called Ruby to see if she could pick up Henry from school and watch him for a while. Emma didn't like missing time with Henry – especially since they'd just gotten back – but as always, a crisis beckoned.

“Did the lass say anything about where she and the Hatter went, love?” Killian asked in a low voice, trying not to alarm Grace sitting the backseat of the Bug.

“Not yet,” Emma said quietly. “I couldn't get much out of her. She's still in shock, I think.”

“Traveling to a different realm can be hard on one so young,” Killian observed. “What was that Hatter _thinking?”_

“Well, if you're right about Jefferson and Gold, then anywhere must have seemed better than here,” Emma reminded him. “The real question is why is he back? Why now?”

Killian shrugged. Emma had no better answer either. Once they arrived at the station, Emma put the Bug in park and climbed out. She pulled the seat forward to let Grace out of the back. The little girl climbed out soundlessly and stood quietly. Emma felt so bad for her. Taken away from home, off to another land without warning and then bam...back again. She had half a mind to hit Jefferson, but knew that wouldn't do any good. Instead, Emma took Grace's hand and led her inside, Killian following.

“David?”Emma called. “Jefferson? Anyone in here?”

“Yeah, Emma,” came David's voice. “We're in here.”

Emma rounded a corner and found Jefferson and David in the interrogation room. Jefferson sat glumly at the table looking daggers at David. “David,” Emma exclaimed. “Why is Jefferson _chained_ to the table?!”

Grace broke free of Emma's hold and ran to her father. Jefferson murmured reassuring words to his daughter, while Emma grabbed _her_ father's arm and dragged him out of the room. “What the hell?” she demanded.

David looked chagrined. “Sorry, Emma, but I had to,” he explained. “He was talking _nonsense_. And wouldn't speak to anyone but you. He told Grace to go and fetch you when I wouldn't let him leave the station.”

Emma scrubbed her hand over her face. “Fine. What happened anyway? How did they get _here?_ ”

“After you left, I put Jefferson's hat in the evidence locker. I was sitting here working when I heard a loud crash. When I opened the door to the evidence room, there was huge swirling whirlpool in the floor. Then Jefferson and Grace climbed out it.”

“And you have no idea where they came from?” Killian asked.

David looked at him, annoyed. “I told you, Jefferson will only talk to Emma.”

“Well, I guess I should do that then,” Emma said heavily. She, Killian and David went back into the interrogation room, closing the door softly behind them. First, she went to unchain Jefferson from the table; there wasn't any need for it that she could see. Then she sat down across from Jefferson; David and Killian flanked her on either side. Emma thought about asking them to leave, but changed her mind. Whatever Jefferson had to say, David and Killian were going to hear it anyway. This way was more practical. “What happened to you, Jefferson?” she asked.

Jefferson's eyes darted from Emma to David. “I'm not telling _him_ ,” the Hatter spat.

“Save it, Jefferson,” Emma said. “There's no time for games. You asked to talk to me and here I am. And the sheriff has ever right to be backed by her two deputies. So talk.”

Jefferson sighed dramatically. “Fine. I took Grace to Wonderland. Now we're back. Can we go now?”

“Why would you do that?” Killian asked. “I distinctly remember you saying you'd never go there again.”

“Not only that,” Emma said, “but why leave at all? What do you know, Jefferson? Is this about Gold?” Emma was certain it was, but she wanted Jefferson to say it out loud.

“Storybrooke's not safe,” Jefferson said plaintively. “Not anymore. And I couldn't...couldn't,” he faltered, reaching for Grace. “I had to keep her safe.”

“It's okay, Jefferson,” Emma said, reassuringly. “Is that what happened? Did Gold threaten Grace?”

The Mad Hatter looked down guiltily. “Several weeks ago, he...came to me. Wanted me to fetch some items for him, like in the old days. At first I said no. I don't want to cause anymore trouble, I just want to live quietly with Grace.”

“But?” David prompted.

Jefferson glared at her father. “Well, what would you have done?” he spat. “If it were your daughter?”

_I'm right here and I have a gun, for Christ's sake,_ Emma thought. But she knew Jefferson was right. She'd gone to the Enchanted Forest because Gold had threatened Killian. It was how that monster worked.

“So you thought helping him would keep Grace safe, we get it,” David said, his voice softening just a little. “What did he want you to do?”

“He had me go to different lands and bring back an artifact, a powerful magical artifact. The last one was from our land. Only after I left, the portal vanished. Like a big black...nothing. That's when I knew something was wrong. When I confronted him, Gold laughed in my face. That's when I knew we had to leave. Wonderland was one of the few portals still open, so that's where we went.”

“What do you mean 'one of the few left open'?” Emma asked.

Jefferson eyed her warily. “The portals to every land I visited for Rumplestiltskin closed. There's nothing left, except a big black void.”

“So you went to Wonderland,” Killian said, irritably. “Why come back?”

“You've been there, pirate. Don't you know?”

“Can't say as I do. Everything changed after Cora died. We didn't stay for the guided tour,” Killian shot back.

“Not everything,” Jefferson said. “Cheshire's still there.”

“The _cat_ made you do it?” Emma asked incredulously. She'd met Cheshire when they were in Wonderland. He'd given them the typical cryptic song and dance. _But you did find the beans, just like he said_ , Emma reminded herself.

“Yes,” Jefferson shot back, annoyed. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Fine, the cat gave you some cryptic spiel and here you are. Must have been a doozy to get you to risk coming back.”

“He said I could fix it.”

“Fix what?” David asked.

Emma and Killian shared a look. They hadn't really gotten into the ins and outs of Rumpelstiltskin's curse. They didn't want to scare anyone – especially Henry – unnecessarily. As briefly as she could, Emma explained how the magical objects were responsible for the stars going out and the closed portals.

“Oh my god,” David breathed when she finished. “That explains where August went.”

“What happened to August?” Emma asked.

“Remember, love, what we saw in the Seeing Stones?” Killian said.

“August left here, a couple days after you guys did,” David explained. “Didn't tell anyone where he was going; he just left. Gepetto's been worried sick.”

“But what does that have to do with Jefferson and the Cheshire cat?”

“Well, if what Merlin told you is true, then Rumpelstiltskin would need an object from this world too,” Jefferson said.

“What's magical _here?_ ” Emma asked, completely bewildered. Then she realized she was being stupid; she could just figure out _where_ August went. Tracking someone in _this_ world? Now that was something she was good at. “Wait here a minute,” she said, getting up. “I can figure out where he went.”

Killian ignored her and followed her out to her office. “What is it, love?” he asked.

Emma fired up the ancient computer. “If August went somewhere, we can track him. Maybe it will give us a clue as to what he's searching for. Then we can try to get a hold of him to formulate a plan.”

“You think the Crocodile manipulated August too, right?” Killian said. It wasn't really a question. After Wonderland, August would never willingly betray them.

“Well, with us gone, August and Regina would be the only people who could leave town. He'd never ask Regina for help, so that leaves August.” Emma turned back to the computer. She opened up the internet and got started. It was just like riding a bike. Within minutes, she'd tracked down August's credit cards. He was staying in a tiny town in Kansas. “Kansas? What the hell's in Kansas?”

Jefferson and David appeared in the doorway. “Isn't it obvious, Sheriff?” Jefferson asked. “He's looking for the ruby slippers.”

Emma stared at the Mad Hatter, nonplussed. “Ruby slippers? As in Dorothy?”

“He asked me to find them once before,” Jefferson explained. “I looked for them in Oz, but Dorothy had already taken off with them. And my hat doesn't travel to places that don't have magic.”

“We have to talk to August,” Emma said, still trying to wrap her brain around the idea that Dorothy Gale was _real_. “Now.”

“Already on it, love,” Killian said, picking up the phone on her desk. He was silent for a moment, then left August a message to call them as soon as possible.

“Not there, huh?” Emma asked, stating the obvious.

“Nope,” Killian said, cradling the receiver.

“Until we hear from August, perhaps Jefferson here would like to enlighten us on the brilliant plan to fix all of this,” David said sarcastically.

“Yeah, let's hear it, mate,” Killian said, casually leaning against the wall behind Emma's chair. The Hatter sat in one of the chairs across from Emma while David took the other. All three of them looked at Jefferson expectantly.

“I know how to get all the magical objects back where they belong,” Jefferson informed them.

“But you said your hat was broken; the portals closed.”

“It is, but there's another way. Cheshire led me straight to them...sort of.”

“As much as that bloody cat can be straight about anything, no doubt,” Killian said, annoyed. “What did you find?”

Jefferson reached into his coat and pulled out a medium size cloth bag, closed with a drawstring. “The same thing you found when you killed Cora, Hook,” he said matter of factly. “Magic beans.”

“ _What?”_ Emma, Killian and David said together.

“You didn't think Cora would only grow a half dozen or so, did you?” Jefferson shot back, amused at their stunned faces.

“How the bloody hell would you know?” Killian shot back.

“Because she'd want to use them,” David said suddenly. “Either for herself or to manipulate people. That's why the war started between the giants and humans.”

That's what the giant had told Emma on the beanstalk. How David of all people knew that was a mystery to her. “Okay, so. Beans. How many are there?”

“No idea,” Jefferson said. “I was a little too busy trying to get _out_ of Wonderland to count them.” Emma reached for the bag, but Jefferson pulled it back. “Not so fast, princess,” Jefferson admonished. “I want a deal.”

“I'm not Rumplestiltskin, Jefferson. I don't make deals.”

“If I give these to you and you manage to actually defeat him, he's going to be pissed. Worse, he'll come after us... _all_ of us. So if you think I'm going to make my Grace a target again, you're the one who's insane.”

Emma looked at Killian. He seemed to read her thoughts. Slowly, he nodded. “Fine, Jefferson. What if I told you that we have a way to make Rumplestiltskin mortal? He won't ever be able to bother any of us again.”

“I'd ask how you managed such an astonishing feat, princess.”

Killian growled low in his throat. “After all she's done, you question her word, Hatter?” he asked disgusted. He took at step toward Jefferson.

Emma hauled him back. “Killian,” she soothed. “Please.” They didn't need a fight breaking out; they were all supposed to be on the same side.

“Still have that temper, I see,” Jefferson observed. “Thank goodness the princess is here to hold you in check.”

Emma turned around and glared at Jefferson. “Shut up, Jefferson. I could just... _arrest_ you as an accessory to Gold's plot. So unless you want to spend Grace's formative years in a jail cell, you best lay _off_ my fiancé. Got it?”

Jefferson's eyes flew wide, then he nodded in understanding. “I'll give you these,” the Mad Hatter said, indicating the beans, “and then I'm _out_. No one finds out where I got them. No one even finds out that Grace and I are back until _after_ Rumplestiltskin is defeated. That's the deal.”

Emma shared a look with Killian. Keeping Jefferson's return under wraps shouldn't be too hard. They could just hide him out at the cabin or something. It's not like Gold was in any position to go hiking out in the woods. Killian must have been thinking along similar lines. He nodded once more.

“Now wait just a second,” David started to argue.

“Do you have a better idea?” Emma asked him. “There's only one bean left, David. Making Gold mortal won't get us a damn thing if we can't get those objects back where they belong.”

“Fine,” David agreed reluctantly.

“Jefferson,” Emma said, “We'll find someplace to hide you until this all blows over, alright? We'll keep you and Grace safe, you have my word.”

Jefferson looked from Emma to Killian to David, then back to Emma. “Okay,” he said, holding out the bad of beans to her. She took it gratefully. Now all they had to do was make Rumplestiltskin mortal. And find August.

David headed out to keep a lookout for Gold. Once he'd called back with confirmation that the imp was alone in his shop, Emma and Killian smuggled Jefferson and Grace out of the back of the station and into Storybrook's only cruiser. No one spoke as Emma drove them the long way out of town and out toward the cabin. Emma parked near the trail and got out. She and Killian escorted Jefferson and Grace back along the trail.

“Just sit tight here,” Emma said. “We'll bring by some supplies in a few hours. I don't think you'll need to be out here long, but it can't hurt.” Jefferson nodded. She and Killian turned to go, but Emma looked back. “And Jefferson?” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

“So what's out next move, love?” Killian asked, as they drove back into town.

“I guess,” she said thoughtfully, “our first priority should be finding out what August's situation is. Because if Gold only needs the ruby slippers yet before he can cast the curse, then we need to know how close he is to getting them.”

“He needs my heart as well,” Killian reminded her, unnecessarily.

“He's not getting it,” Emma said emphatically. “Not if I have anything to say about it. But we need to know how long we have to find that dagger. Because once he has the last object, he's going to come looking for you.” She reached over and took his hand, his _left_ hand, and squeezed it tightly. “We're gonna get through this, you know.”

Killian squeezed back. “I have faith in you, love. In us. Everything will be fine.”

When they got back to the station, David, Mary Margaret and Gepetto were waiting for them. “Is Henry still with Ruby?” Emma asked, before anyone could question her.

“Yes,” Mary Margaret assured her. “Why?”

“Because he doesn't need to hear this,” Emma said firmly. “Not all of it anyway. We'll tell him what we can after we come up with a plan.”

“A plan for what?” Mary Margaret asked sharply. “Is this to do with making Rumplestiltskin mortal again? Because I don't like the sound of that, Emma.”

Emma groaned inwardly. She knew this was going to take some persuasion. Robbing Gold of his powers without his consent was probably a little too morally gray for her white knight parents. But Emma was _done_ putting up with Gold's meddling in her life and the lives of those she loved. It was time to end this.

“Let's all sit, okay?” Emma said, gesturing to the chairs. “We'll explain everything, then we need to talk to August.”

“Pinocchio?” Gepetto asked. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, sitting down. Killian pulled up a seat next to her. “He's in Kansas, retrieving something for Gold.”

“Mr. Gold?” Gepetto asked worriedly. “What could Pinocchio do for him?”

“It's alright, mate,” Killian said. “August's after something a hell of a lot safer than what he sent _us_ for.” Emma smiled knowingly. Kansas didn't have any evil witches or crazy fairies as far as she knew. As long as he was careful and actually brought back what Gold asked for, August should be fine.

“Killian,” Mary Margaret said suddenly, “is that your...hand?” She was pointing at Killian's left arm with a look of awe on her face.

“What?” David asked in disbelief, looking as well.

Killian reached out for Emma – with his left hand – and held up their entwined hands. “Emma,” he said simply.

Both of her parents looked at her in shock. “You...You did that?” David asked, stunned.

“Well, yeah,” Emma replied, a bit embarrassed. “With a little help from Tinkerbell.”

“Emma, that's...extraordinary,” her mother said.

“Not all that different from a healing spell,” Emma said somewhat defensively. “You've seen me do those, loads of times.”

“Emma, reattaching limbs is serious magic,” David said bluntly.

“Why is this such a big deal?” Emma asked. “I fought off _Cora_ , for Christ's sake. And Morgan. And won a stare off with the Queen of the Pixies. And yet, you guys are gawping about me reattaching Killian's hand!”

“It's just...” Mary Margaret began quietly. “The only person we've seen do magic on that level is Rumplestiltskin. I'm not even sure Regina could do it.”

“You're scared, aren't you?” Killian asked. “You're afraid of what it could do to her.” When neither Mary Margaret or David replied, Emma knew Killian was right. “She's terrified out of her wits about this, you know,” he continued. “Afraid that it's going to corrupt her. But that won't happen.”

“How do you know?” David demanded.

“Because she's got me,” Killian said simply. “And Henry. And you lot. She already has a family and love; she has no reason to use her powers for ill. But it would be a damn sight easier if her _parents_ supported her.”

Both David and Mary Margaret looked stung by Killian's words. Emma loved them very much, but there was a reason she hadn't really clued them in the full extent of what she was discovering about herself and the magic. She didn't want to frighten or worry them. She was scared and worried about it enough. Still, she knew she had to say something.

“Look,” Emma began, “I can see how you could see this as a slippery slope. Believe me, I don't _want_ this kind of power. But I have it and it's saved my life and Killian's more times than I can count now. So I vote we focus on the positives here and get back to the issue at hand.”

Neither of her parents looked _thrilled_ about this, but Emma's tone brooked no argument. They had more important things to deal with. And she had a feeling they were going to need her magic before everything was said and done.

 

Killian was only half listening when Emma turned the conversation back to August and Rumplestiltskin's curse. He still couldn't get past Snow and David's attitude about Emma and her magic. He knew their history, knew that magic had devastated their lives more than once. It had done the same to his. Milah was dead because of magic. But magic had also brought him to Emma. In Neverland, it had kept him alive long enough to return to his world, where he met Emma. She was so extraordinary and didn't even know it. She was light and hope and everything that was good in the world. He wouldn't let her lose that; he'd die himself first.

“So we think he needs the slippers still before trying to cast the curse for real,” Emma was saying.

David knitted his eyebrows together. “Wait, let me get this straight,” he said. “Gold gathered all these objects together to bring the barrier down between Storybrooke and the outside? So he can go to his son and try to convince Neal to come back here?”

“And to finish the curse, he needs Killian's _heart?”_ Snow finished.

“Merlin said that no one's meant to have that much power in one place,” Emma said. “That's why everything's going haywire with the storms and stars and stuff.”

“Still, his _heart_?” Snow asked, disgusted.

“It's the opposite of what Regina used to cast the original curse,” Killian cut in. “She used the heart of the thing she loved the most. The counter curse would need the heart of the thing Rumpelstiltskin _hates_ the most. Which is me.”

“Because he thinks you stole his wife and then Emma?” Snow said incredulously. “That's ridiculous.”

Emma gave her mother a look. “This is Gold we're talking about. Is anything about him sane?”

“But maybe Belle...” Snow hedged. “Doesn't he listen to her?”

“I wouldn't count on that,” said an accented voice Killian last heard in the charred remains of her beloved library.

Everyone turned and looked. Belle – memories apparently restored – stood in the hallway next to Emma's office. She looked a bit scared, as if she wasn't sure she'd be welcome. But she also looked determined. From what little Killian know of her, for all her bookishness, she was as fierce a lass as his Emma. Which made sense, since she'd found it in her heart to love the bloody Crocodile.

“Belle?” Emma said tentatively.

“Yeah,” the brunette replied. “It's me. Rumple...fixed me.” She didn't look entirely happy about it, Killian noticed.

“Um, not to sound rude or anything,” Snow said, “but does he know you're here?”

Belle shook her head. “No, he doesn't. I told him I needed to start going through the remains of the library...alone. But I don't have long.”

“What do you know, Belle?” Emma asked, guiding the other woman to an empty chair.

“I know,” Belle said, twisting a ribbon in her hands. “I know about the curse. I've known for a while actually. That's why I was down in the caves.”

Killian stared at her, stunned. She _knew?_ And didn't tell anyone? “And when the bloody hell were you going to inform the rest of us?”

Belle flinched a little, and Emma shot Killian a look. But what else did she expect? The Crocodile's True Love knew he was planning something...something that involved Killian's _death_ and tried to deal with it herself.

“No, no, Emma,” Belle said finally. “It's okay. You have every right to be angry,” she continued to Killian. “I should have come to you as soon as I found out, but I...just...I wanted to think that I would be enough. That I could pull him back from the darkness again.”

“Well, you losing your memories definitely made it worse,” Emma said, not unkindly.

“I didn't mean for that to happen,” Belle said quickly. “The storm was raging and I thought the elevator would be the safest place in the building. But then it...caught fire,” she continued near tears over her beloved books. “So I headed down. Once I got there, I thought I could look for the dagger.”

“We found the map,” Emma said. “I didn't see anything marked on it but the town line though.”

“I didn't know for sure it would be down there,” Belle said. “It...just seemed like a likely place. Who would willingly go down there?”

“Good point,” Emma said.

“So you don't actually know where the bloody thing is, do you?” Killian asked, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. To him, it didn't seem like Belle's presence was bringing much to the situation at hand.

“No, I don't,” Belle said. “It's not in his shop though. And it wasn't in the library. I looked.”

“How did you manage that without him knowing?” Emma asked.

“He has no reason to suspect I'd be looking for it,” Belle explained. “I...understand him, so when I asked if I could look around, he didn't question me.”

“Belle, if he finds out you were messing around with that...or came here,” Emma said worriedly.

“It's why I don't have long,” Belle said. “I love him, but I couldn't stand by and let him do this. As soon as I...woke up, I wanted to make sure you knew what was going on. Now I know you do. If you're planning something...I don't want to know what it is. It's better if I don't know. I'll do what I can...try and convince him, but it's his son. Rumple's very...sensitive about him.”

“We noticed,” Emma said ruefully. “Well, thanks, Belle. We'll...like you said, do what we can. Hopefully, this will be over soon.”

Belle nodded gratefully and got up to go. “Good luck,” she said.

“You too.”

“Well, that was illuminating,” Killian said sarcastically once he was certain Belle was out of earshot.

“It took a lot of guts for her to come here, Killian,” Emma admonished. “If Gold finds out...”

“If she'd have come to us sooner, we might have been able to get a lid on it before it got to this point,” Killian pointed out. “Now that sodding imp is _this close_ to coming after my heart.”

“That's not going to happen,” Emma repeated. “We'll stop him.”

“How?” David asked. “Because you're talking about making Rumpelstiltskin _mortal,_ Emma. It's too dangerous.”

“Do you have a better idea, mate?” Killian asked.

“Why not just steal back the objects and take them back to where they belong?” the prince asked heatedly.

“That takes care of the symptom not the problem,” Emma said. “If we stop this attempt, who's to say Gold won't try again? We've thought really hard about this, David,” she continued, taking Killian's hand in hers. “I'm not risking Killian's life again, just because Gold can't accept the fact that he fucked up his own life. You think Neal's just going to welcome his father back with open arms after he used _more_ destructive magic to get to him? If there's even a world left after Gold casts his damn curse. I'm _done_. This ends. Now.”

“Alright, Emma,” Snow said, coming to stand beside her husband. “We do we need to do?”

“Snow!” David cried.

“She's right, David,” Snow said calmly. “Rumplestiltskin is never going to get out of our lives; he's always going to use his power over us. If this ends it, then I think we should do it.”

Killian looked at the princess, surprised. But then, he realized, he shouldn't have been. This was the same woman who ordered him to bring back Emma from Wonderland by any means necessary. Snow White wasn't one to shy away from what needed to be done, especially in the name of family.

“First,” Emma began, “we need to talk to August. Find out just how far along he is on those slippers. Hell, see if we can get him to stall. Then, we need to find that dagger. Titania gave us something to destroy it once and for all. If we can find it and destroy it – preferably without Gold knowing until it's _done_ – then we can take back the things he had Jefferson steal and return them to where they belong.”

“Aye, Merlin says everything should go back to normal once those magical baubles get back where they belong.”

“We'll do that,” David said immediately, wrapping an arm around Snow. “You guys have done enough. After we stop Rumplestiltskin, we'll take everything back where it belongs.”

“Of course,” Snow said. “We haven't been on an adventure in ages.”

“You guys don't have to do that,” Emma said quickly.

“We want to,” her mother said. “Like David said, you guys have done enough. We're your parents, Emma. Let us do this.”

“If you're sure,” Emma said skeptically. Both Snow and David nodded.

“Fantastic,” Killian deadpanned. “Time to talk to the puppet, yeah?”

Emma sat at the desk again, pulling Killian down into the seat beside her. She pulled out her phone. “I'm hoping the only reason he didn't answer earlier was because he didn't recognize the station's number,” she grumbled, as she put the phone on speaker and dialed.

“Hi, Emma,” came August's voice though the phone. “You got back in one piece.”

She waved everyone silent before answering him. “Yeah, August, we did. How's Kansas?” Silence on the other end. But the puppet didn't hang up; Killian could hear him breathing. “It's okay, August. We know.”

“Who's there with you?” August finally asked.

“My parents, Killian and your dad,” she informed him. “That's it.”

“Guys, I am so sorry,” August began. “But he threatened my dad, I couldn't...”

“We figured as much,” Killian cut in. “Have you found those sodding slippers yet?”

“Excuse me?” August asked, aghast.

“Come off it, mate. We know your looking for the ruby slippers. We just need to know if you've found them yet.”

“How did...” August began.

“I used to be a bounty hunter, remember?” Emma reminded him. “If you didn't want to be followed you should have paid cash.”

August groaned, defeated. “Alright, fine. I _do_ have the slippers; I've been trying to stall coming back. But Gold keeps calling to check on my progress. I'm running out of lies.”

Emma snorted. “ _Pinocchio's_ running out of lies? Is this bizarro world?”

“How long do you think you can stall?” David asked.

Killian could practically hear August thinking. “Two days, maybe three. But I can't promise anything. Why?”

Briefly as they could they explained the “make Rumpelstiltskin mortal” plan. “That...sounds dangerous,” August said when they finished. “What do you need me to do?”

Killian smiled, proud of his erstwhile puppet friend. “Stall as long as you can, mate. Let us know when you're definitely on your way back. We'll try to have the dagger before you return.”

“I think I can do that.”

They gave Gepetto a few minutes alone to talk to his son. Snow and David went out to the cabin to bring Jefferson and Grace what they needed; it would have been too suspicious for Emma and Killian to drive out in that direction twice in a few hours. Instead, they went to the diner to collect Henry and took him home. It was too late to go looking for the dagger anymore that night. It would have to wait until morning.

Killian and Emma spent some quality time with Henry, not wanting to worry him about what was going on. Killian didn't want the lad anywhere near the Crocodile or anything related to that sodding curse. The lad spent most of the evening enthusing over the reattachment of Killian's hand.

“That is _so_ cool,” Henry was saying. “Did you do it with magic, Mom?” Emma nodded. “What are you gonna do with your hook?” he asked Killian.

“I can't say I've thought about it, Henry,” Killian replied, surprised by the question. What _should_ he do with it now? “What do you think?”

Henry picked it up and studied it. “Can I have it?”

“What'd you want Killian's hook for?” Emma asked.

“I don't know. But I don't have anything of his,” Henry said thoughtfully. “I have those dolls from your nursery, Mom, but nothing of Dad's.”

Killian exchanged a look with Emma. Henry was the most extraordinary lad. “In that case,” Killian said, “it's yours.”

“Really?”

“Of course, I certainly don't need it anymore.”

“Awesome,” Henry said. “I can't wait to show it to Grace. When do you think she'll be back in school?”

“I'm not sure, Henry,” Emma said quietly. “I think she needs to get adjusted to being home first, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed. He yawned.

“I think it's time for bed,” Emma said, ruffling the lad's hair.

“Do I have too? I'm not even tired.”

“That yawn would indicate otherwise, lad,” Killian pointed out, chuckling. “Go on, off you get.”

Henry hugged Killian tightly. “Night, Dad,” he said, before following Emma up the stairs to his room. Killian just shook his head in disbelief. He still was incredulous that Henry called him that. He hadn't really done anything to earn it.

“What's that frown for?” Emma asked, when she returned.

“What?” Killian asked, shaken out of his reverie. “Nothing, love.”

Emma sat down next to him on the couch, snuggling into his side. Killian curled his left arm around her; the fingers of his hand toying with her blond tresses. “Killian...”

“How long have you known that Henry wanted to call me dad?” he asked.

“Oh, that. A little while,” she said, not looking at him. “I wasn't sure how you'd react, so I told Henry to wait. I mean, I'd known him a whole year before I was alright with him calling me 'mom'. And frankly, it still blows my mind sometimes.”

“Children just weren't something I thought I wanted,” Killian said. “No real place for them on a pirate ship, love. But then I see you with Henry, and I know you'd die rather than leave him. And I guess, the idea became more appealing. But I never thought Henry...I mean, he has a father, yeah?”

That made Emma sit up and look him in the eye. “If you mean a _biological_ father, then yeah. But I meant it when I said you were his dad in every way that matters. Henry adores you and that's a rare thing in this world. So yeah, _you're_ his dad, Killian. Just like you'll be the dad for all our other children.”

“Our children,” Killian said slowly. “I like the sound of that.”

“I certainly hope so, since you were the one who brought it up,” Emma teased. She leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, lass.” He gathered her in his arms again and settled her against his chest. “I think Henry has taken a bit of a fancy to the Hatter's lass,” he observed.

“He's only eleven, Killian.”

“So? I was perfectly capable of recognizing a pretty lass at that age,” Killian argued.

“Not everyone is _you_ ,” Emma said stubbornly.

“Believe what you want, love,” he said, kissing her hair, “but I do believe our young lad has a crush.”

“I really hope you're wrong,” Emma groaned. “I'm not ready for that yet.”

“Oh, it will still be a few years yet, darling. Henry will be a lady killer, for sure.”

“Like you?”

“Oh, love, I may have been long, long ago. But the only woman I want is _you_.”

“When we go on that vacation, you'll see,” Emma retorted. “Women all over will swoon.”

“You didn't, if memory serves,” Killian reminded her.

Emma laughed. “It may not have appeared that way to you,” she said, toying with the ring on her finger, “but I'm not blind or deaf, you know.”

“What's this? The princess admitting she appreciated the pirate's charms all along?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Emma said quietly.

Killian just grinned at her, even though she couldn't see it. There was his beautiful stubborn princess. They sat there until he heard Emma dozing. “Come on, love. Let's get you to bed,” he said quietly. It had been a long and exhausting day, especially for her. She made no protest when Killian picked her up and carried her to their bedroom.

The next morning after Henry had been dropped off at school, Emma and Killian joined Snow, David and Regina at the sheriff's station. Emma, after thinking long and hard about it, had decided to let the Queen in on the secret. If they were going to use magic to find the dagger, Regina would be the best person to ask. Killian didn't like it, but as things stood now, the odds of keeping it a secret much longer were nearly nil.

By the time they had gotten there, Snow and David had brought the Queen up to speed. “You're planning on making Rumpelstiltskin _mortal_?” Regina asked incredulously by way of greeting.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Emma shot back.

“For heaven's sake, no,” Regina said. “Rumplestiltskin powerless makes all of our lives easier. But you know, Miss Swan, that magic comes with a price.”

Killian looked at Emma. He'd heard what Titania had said: that taking down Rumplestiltskin would lead to the rise of something darker. But it was either that or face the end of the world. Killian knew which one he would choose. He'd face down the very gates of hell if it meant he got more time with Emma. He reached out and took her hand. “Well, if you _want_ the world to end, your majesty,” he said derisively, “then by all means, sit this one out.”

Regina glared at him, but he paid her no heed. As far as he was concerned, she was there as a courtesy, nothing more. “Fine,” the Queen said at last. “What do you need me to do? You wouldn't have included me in your little pow wow, if you didn't need something.”

“We need your help finding the dagger,” Emma said.

“And what do you want me to do, Miss Swan? I'm not a metal detector.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “We have some of the same substance that makes up the dagger. It's how we're going to destroy it. I thought maybe you could use some of it to find the dagger, like a locator spell or something.”

Regina's eyes widened slightly. “How did you...?”

“Trust me, your majesty,” Killian cut in, “you don't want to know. Can you do the sodding spell or not?”

“Of course I can,” Regina snapped. “I only wonder why your fiancé hasn't.” The Queen looked at Emma. “Your parents tell me that you are magical, Miss Swan.”

“Yeah, well, so far my magic seems to be more of the bombastic combat kind,” Emma explained. “And most of the time I have no clue what I'm doing. This is too important. So are you going to help us or what?”

“Oh, I'm not sure about that, Miss Swan,” Regina countered, getting a glimpse of Killian's hand for the first time. “But if you're sure, then yes. I'll do it.”

Emma quirked a brow at the Queen, but nodded. She handed Regina a tiny clear plastic bag that contained a pinch of the stardust they had brought back from Neverland. Regina accepted the bag and moved off to another desk to perform the spell. Snow and David watched her, to make sure she actually did the spell, Killian presumed. Unlike Emma, they were a tad less inclined to believe in Regina's good intentions.

“Are you sure about this, love?” Killian whispered.

“It's not like we have choice, Killian.”

“Bollocks. The Queen's right; you could do this spell.”

“And risk screwing it up?” Emma snapped. “No, thank you.”

“All I'm saying, Emma, is that you have this power for a reason. I believe in you. I think it would be good for you to learn to use it properly.”

“Can we talk about this later? Like after we save the world?”

Killian was about to argue when a bright light illuminated the office then faded. Regina held up a map of Storybrooke and said, “I know where it is.”

Emma snatched the map from her and looked at it. Killian scanned it over her shoulder. There was a bright white dot glowing on the paper. It appeared to be in the middle of the woods. “Are you sure this is right?” Killian asked.

“If what you gave me is the same stuff the dagger is made out of, then I am positive,” Regina said confidently. “That's where Rumplestiltskin has hidden his precious dagger.”

Emma folded the map carefully. “Alright, Killian and I will go. You guys stay here in town, keep an eye out on Gold. Call if he moves an inch. If we're all very lucky, this will be over by dinner.”

Killian followed her out silently. Once they were in the Bug, he turned to her. “You don't really believe that rubbish, do you? Something's going to go wrong...something _always_ goes wrong.”

“Well, yeah, it will now that you've jinxed us!” Emma deadpanned as she pulled out into the street. But Killian could see her eyes. She didn't believe it was going to be that easy any more than he did. Emma drove them out as close as she dared. She killed the engine and climbed out, Killian following. Together, they crept through the woods, shovels in hand. As they neared the spot on the map, Killian heard voices.

He was about to ask Emma if she'd heard it too, but she was too fast for him. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a tree. “You heard that, right?” she whispered. Killian nodded. “Who the hell would be out here now?”

“Only one way to find out, love,” Killian said in a low voice.

By mutual agreement, they left their shovels and crouched low, taking parallel paths toward the sounds. They appeared to be coming from a swale about twenty yards from them. Killian saw a rock outcropping that seemed to overlook the place where the voices were coming from. Killian motioned for Emma to follow as he made for it, ducking and crawling the last few yards or so. That's when he recognized one of the voices: it was Rumplestiltskin. Killian closed his eyes in defeat. The Crocodile had beaten them to it; somehow he had known. Emma poked him hard and Killian opened his eyes. “Look,” she said in hoarse whisper.

Killian peered over the edge of the rock and his jaw dropped. It was the Crocodile alright, but he wasn't alone. He was with Belle. They seemed to be having a picnic lunch in the middle of the forest. But why would the imp have a romantic interlude with his newly restored love in the same place he'd hidden his dagger? It didn't make sense. Unless...

“Sweet merciful gods,” he breathed.

“What?”

“We have to get out of here. Now.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me, love.”

Silently, they half crawled half walked back to where they'd left the shovels. Killian picked them both up and headed back to the Bug. It wasn't until they were inside it that he spoke. “That sodding _bastard_ ,” he muttered.

“Killian, _what_ is going on? Why did we leave?”

“Because the dagger isn't buried out there, love.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know _him_. He'd never bring Belle to the place that held something so important to him. Because if she knew where the dagger was, someone could try to get that information out of her.”

“So where is it?”

“Rumplestiltskin has it, love.”

“Are you being deliberately cryptic, Killian?” Emma asked, exasperated.

“No, I mean he has it. _On him_. Somewhere concealed in that tailored suit is the dagger; I'd wager my ship on it.”

Emma's eyes widened, knowing full well that he wouldn't make such a statement lightly. The _Jolly Roger_ was too important to him. “If you're right, what do we do? We can't just walk up to him and demand he hand it over.”

Killian turned it over and over in his head. How could they render the Dark One powerless long enough to find the dagger? He saw Emma fiddling with her necklace nervously, the necklace he'd given her after they'd returned from Wonderland. Wonderland. Cora. Killian's hand went to his chest; he could feel his heart beating under his palm. The heart that was protected by True Love. And he had a _terrible_ idea.  


	16. Chapter 15

“Absolutely not,” Emma cried, nearly slamming the door in Killian's face. 

“Emma, love,” he began, pushing the door open before it could hit him in the nose.

Emma whirled on him. “Don't you 'Emma, love' me, Killian Jones,” she shot back angrily. “This is the worst idea ever. And I won't do it.”

Killian stood five feet across from her in the living room of their apartment. They'd come straight there, after arguing the entire way home from the forest. Emma hadn't even called her parents about the fiasco with Rumplestiltskin yet.

“What choice do we have?” Killian asked, his own temper rising. “Because if you have a better idea, love, I'm all ears.”

Emma glared at him and ran her fingers haphazardly through her golden curls. “There's a better idea,” she muttered. “We just haven't thought of it yet.”

“Emma, I don't want to do this anymore than you do, but there's no other way.”

“You don't know that.”

Killian sighed heavily. “Love, the only way any of us are going to get close enough to the Crocodile to get that bloody dagger from him is to give him what he wants.”

“I'm not giving him your heart, magical or otherwise.”

“That's not what I'm saying,” Killian protested. “If you'd bloody listen to me, you'd understand.”

“What am I not understanding, Killian?” Emma nearly shouted. “You want to deliberately expose yourself to that monster! He wants your heart, Killian. I won't do it.”

“But he's not going to get it, don't you see? My heart can't be taken; he doesn't know about our connection, your magic. If we do this, he gets both things he wants: you alone and my heart. But when it backfires on him, we'll take the dagger and destroy it.”

“Killian, you're asking me to fight with you. In public. Make Gold think I've thrown you out. He's never going to buy it. He just saw us together, for Christ's sake!”

Killian sighed. It was a risk; he knew that. He also knew they were running out of options. “Then we'll just have to be convincing. Give everyone a good enough reason for you to chuck me out.”

“Like what?!”

Killian shifted uncomfortably. Anything he came up with made him physically ill. In order for Rumplestiltskin to believe that Emma would throw him out, he'd have to commit a betrayal so heinous that she'd have no alternative. He wasn't even sure he could do it.

“See? You don't have one either.”

“You could catch me with the Queen. Or the she wolf,” Killian said in a very small voice.

Emma stopped her pacing and blinked at him. “What?” she said, equally quietly.

Killian's blood ran cold. He felt like he was going to throw up. “Please don't make me say it again, lass.”

“Killian...how...how could you even...suggest such a thing?” Emma looked like she was about to cry. Killian immediately went to her and held her tightly in his arms.

“I hate myself for even thinking it, Emma. I swear to you. And I'd never actually...it'd just be a bit of play acting, yeah? One compromising position, you throw my things out in the street, I board my ship and that's it.”

Emma curled herself into his chest; Killian stroked her hair with his left hand. She was everything to him and he was asking her to pretend that he'd betray her for someone else. He didn't think there was anything in all his three hundred years that made him feel worse than this.

Eventually, Emma raised her head. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but her cheeks were dry. “How about we have you leave me for the sea instead? It's a little more believable and I don't have to kill anyone for touching what's mine.”

Killian gave a tiny smile. “You'd do that, would you?” he asked, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Damn straight,” Emma said, her voice a little stronger now. “The very idea of you and...” She shook her head. 

“It made me nauseous as well, love. Honestly, I don't know if I could have even gone through with it.”

“Not even with the world at stake?”

“Not even then,” Killian said seriously. “I told you once before, love; I would choose you over the greater good. Always.”

“I still think this is a messed up plan,” Emma said.

“It's not any crazier than any other plan we've had on this little adventure, my love,” Killian reminded her.

“Yeah and look how those turned out.”

“I'd never say it's not risky,” Killian reminded her. “But no one else has a chance of getting close enough to the Crocodile to get the dagger from him. If he tries to take my heart, the same thing that happened to Cora and Morgan will happen to him. He gets knocked out; we get the dagger. I'm the only one who can.”

“I just...” Emma began, as she fiddled with the hair at his nape. “I don't know if we can pull it off; the fighting, I mean. I hate fighting with you. Even when we do, it never lasts long. How long is this supposed to go on? August will be back any day now.”

“In order to get the Crocodile to really believe it, I think it'll have to go on for a few days, at least. We'll have to row – in public – and make sure that bloody imp either sees us or hears about it. We'll build it up, then just after August returns have one final dustup where you throw me out. Or I storm out. Either way, I head to the Roger, the Crocodile follows and everything ends well.”

Emma still looked skeptical. “I'm still not crazy about it, but I'm stumped. Short of asking Belle to help – which would completely blow whatever influence she has with him – I can't think of anything better.”

Killian sighed. “It's the perfect hiding place,” he said. “Everyone hates him and aren't foolish enough to get close enough to check. It's not that burying it in the forest rubbish. Something that valuable, you learn to keep with you.”

“That a pirate thing?” Emma asked, a small smile playing at her mouth.

“Maybe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Why do you think I hate letting you out of my sight?”

Emma flushed. “So what do we do now?”

“Talk to August, find out how much time we have. Send Henry to stay with Regina; I don't know about you, love, but I don't want him seeing this.”

“We have to explain this to him, Killian. Because if we fight in public, people are gonna talk. And he'll here about it at school. He needs to know that no matter what happens we love him and under no circumstances are either of us going anywhere.”

Killian smiled at her and stroked her cheek. “And here, you always say you're a rubbish mother,” he said gently. “I see a pretty amazing mum from where I'm standing.”

Emma didn't say anything; she just kissed him gently before disentangling herself. They had a lot of things to prepare in order to put their last ditch plan in motion. Emma called August while Killian went to pick Henry up from school. When they returned home, Emma was sitting on the couch staring at her phone.

“What is it, love?” Killian asked.

“Nothing. Regina will be here in half an hour,” she replied, standing. “Hey, kid,” she said to Henry.

“Mom, what's going on? Why were you talking to my mom?” Henry asked, dropping his bag.

“Let's have a seat, Henry,” Emma said quietly. “There's something your dad and I have to tell you.”

Once all three of them were sitting at the table, Emma explained what was going on. She didn't go into as much detail as Killian would have, doubtless in an effort not to scare their son anymore than she had to. When Emma finished, Henry looked back and forth between them.

“So you're going to lure Mr. Gold into a trap by pretending to fight and break up?” Henry asked.

“Essentially, yes,” Emma said.

“But it's only pretend?” Henry asked again.

“Aye, lad,” Killian said, taking Emma's hand. “Only pretend. Nothing could ever break your mum and me up for real.”

“I don't want you to fight,” Henry said quietly.

“Henry, we don't either,” Emma assured him. “But we think it's the only way to end this for good. And that's why you're gonna stay with your mom for a few days. We just wanted to tell you so that if you heard it from somewhere else, you'd know deep down that everything was still okay.”

“Aye, we'll come get you as soon as it's safe,” Killian said.

“Did she really help you figure out where Mr. Gold's dagger is?” Henry asked curiously.

“She did,” Emma told him. “She really did.”

Henry smiled happily. “I guess I should go pack my stuff then,” he said, sliding off his chair.

“Your overnight bag should be in your closet,” Emma called after him, as Henry climbed the stairs.

Killian wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulders seeing her worried expression. “Henry's a strong, perceptive, strong lad, Emma,” he said confidently. “He'll be fine. And the Queen will protect him.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But we just got back. And he just started calling you dad. Now we have to do this song and dance to keep what we love safe. I hate it.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “But this family is known for being rather extraordinary when the occasion arises. It will be fine, you'll see.”

A half hour later, Henry was safely ensconced at Regina's. The only other people they told about the plan were Snow and David. Killian had argued against it, but Emma declared that if her parents couldn't be trusted then no one could. Literally everyone else had to believe that their falling out was genuine in order for the plan to have an even remote chance of success. August had given them two precious days. 

“Ready, love?” Killian asked, running his fingers through her blond tresses lovingly. 

“I still can't believe you talked me into this.”

“Just think of all those times you've wanted to yell and scream at me for annoying you and somehow managed to refrain,” Killian teased, not at all looking forward to this charade himself.

Emma gave him a small smile. “In that case, it should be a piece of cake.”

Killian looked at her very seriously. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“And I love you, Killian Jones.”

Killian leaned in and gave her a fierce, desperate kiss. “I'll see you in a few moments, my love,” he said against her lips. Then he pulled himself away and turned. Killian took a deep breath and pulled open the front door, stepped through it, slamming it after him. He stomped away, putting on his best angry and menacing face. Several people who'd been walking past gave him a wide berth. Right on cue, the apartment door slammed again and Emma came strutting after him.

“And just where do you think you're going, pirate?” she spat angrily.

Killian didn't turn. “To The Rabbit Hole. Is that a bloody crime now?” 

“We're not finished,” she said, catching up and standing in front of him. Her cheeks were bright with anger and her eyes were flashing. To anyone who didn't know her well, Emma would appear to be in a high temper.

“Yes, we bloody well are,” Killian countered, stepping around her. “I'm a pirate, love. I don't have to account for every minute of my day to you.”

Emma didn't miss a beat. “I'm the fucking Sheriff, asshole. You work for me. And I say you do.”

“Well, maybe I don't want your sodding job anymore. A man should make his own way in the world, don't you think?”

Emma glared at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw the bystanders scurrying away while stealing glances back at them. Precisely what they had wanted. But he kept his countenance firm. 

“Now you're gonna pull that shit?” Emma said, disgusted. “You know what? I don't have time for your bullshit. Do whatever you want.” She turned and took off in the direction of the Sheriff's station, her back straight, anger radiating off her. Again, to anyone that didn't know her well, they'd think Emma Swan was in a high dugeon and that unsavory pirate was the cause. Perfect.

Killian spat disgustedly on the ground. He hated that they had to do this, but the pretense must be kept. To that end, he stalked off to the Rabbit Hole, where he proceeded to drink an entire bottle of the proprietor’s best rum. For a first try, he thought that they'd done rather well. And excellent opening gambit. Now all they had to hope for was that word would reach the Crocodile.

He came home late that night, skulking in the shadows, trying to remain unseen. Killian refused to actually sleep without Emma until absolutely necessary. With all of Storybrooke in bed, it was safe to return home. She was awake when he walked the door.

“Oh thank god,” she breathed, rushing into his arms. “I was afraid you were going to sleep out on the ship.”

“Might have to tomorrow night, love. The following day will be the blowup that alerts the Crocodile that I'm vulnerable,” he explained. “Could look suspicious if I spent the previous night in your arms.”

Emma tightened her hold on him. “I hate this,” she said.

“You were bloody brilliant though,” Killian said, stroking her hair. “Stalking off in a huff like that? You had our observers scurrying for cover.”

“Let's just hope our little display did its job. The sooner this is over with the better I will feel.”

Killian started leading them to their bedroom. As they got ready for bed, he said, “Tomorrow, I think I'll start gathering supplies; things for a long journey. If I'm supposed to be leaving you for the open sea, might as well look the part.”

“Don't get too many perishables,” Emma said, crawling into the bed. She snuggled into his side instantly. “We can use those for our vacation if we play our cards right.”

“Too right, lass,” he replied. They spent the next few minutes talking about where they could go until they each fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Killian woke up and prepared to leave the apartment. Alone. He left a note for Emma, letting her know in rough terms what his movements were going to be for the day. It would be up to her when and where their next public row would take place.

She caught up with him across the street from the Sheriff's station; he'd just come out of the dwarf's – Sneezy, was it? He couldn't remember – apothecary shop. The bag he was carrying had nothing significant in it, but it looked like it did from a distance.

“What the fuck is this about?” Emma spat angrily, her eyes flashing, as she brandished a wrinkled piece of paper at him. Killian recognized it as his note of the morning.

He decided to play along. “You said you wanted to know where I've been,” he said smugly. “There you are, lass.”

“You think this is funny now? This was tacked to the door at the Sheriff's station, you ass. Where you out all fucking night?”

“What business is it of yours if I was?” Killian said, allowing his temper to rise. They had a good angle to the Crocodile's blasted shop. If they were lucky, the sodding imp was watching out his window with ill concealed glee. “I'm not Henry, love. You can't order me about like some pet.”

Hurt flashed in Emma's eyes and Killian mentally cursed this entire plan. He hated making her feel like this, even if it was all fake. One breath later and Emma concealed her pain in a veil of anger. He could practically see the woman he'd first met in the Enchanted Forest cover her face with its mask. And it hurt. After everything they'd been through together, seeing his Emma like this hurt. But they each had a job to do.

“I don't know what your game is, Jones,” Emma said in a low dangerous voice. “But I'm going to find out.”

Killian leaned next to her ear. “Love, if I were playing a game, then I most assuredly would have asked you along,” he whispered. He took advantage of their closeness and slipped another note in her pocket. “Or,” he said a little louder, hating himself more than ever, “I'm playing this game with someone else.”

Emma looked stunned. Then, fury contorting her features, she slapped him. Hard. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Killian did the only thing he could do; he stalked off, glowering at everyone he passed, daring them to speak to him, to defend Emma's honor...something. No one did. But out of the corner of his eye, Killian did see a curtain swish in the window of the Crocodile's blasted shop. That was his only solace as he climbed aboard the Jolly Roger and went to his cabin. There he found his rum stash and proceeded to drain two whole bottles in an attempt to drown his sorrows. He failed.

Killian woke up the next day with the father and mother of all hangovers. At first, he was disoriented, reaching for Emma and nearly panicking when he found the bed beside him empty. Then he remembered: fight in the street, Emma slapping him, trying to drown his sorrows. His head throbbed painfully. He hadn't had a hangover like this in centuries; he was a pirate, he knew how to hold his liquor. But he hadn't eaten anything the previous day and all that rum had done him no favors. He felt miserable. And it was only going to get worse; he and Emma had their final row to stage. Killian swore then and there that if this charade didn't work, he was going to throttle the bloody Crocodile himself and sod the consequences.

Killian washed up as best he could in the small basin on his desk and changed into his pirate's garb. Emma must have sneaked it out to the ship sometime the previous day. He smiled to himself; his clever, clever lass. When he stepped out on to the deck – blinking his eyes in the harsh morning light – he saw piles of supplies stacked there. They must have been delivered while he was passed out. Killian fished out one of the apples and munched on it, staring out at the sea. Gradually, he started to feel better. Food was what he needed. That was a lie. What he really needed was Emma, but until this ridiculous game was played out he'd have to make due.

Once his stomach stopped trying to revolt, Killian spent most of the morning loading the supplies below. It was much easier with two hands. Every time he caught a glimpse of his left hand, Killian felt himself smiling. Emma had done that. She had risked herself on the Crocodile's mission to return his hand to him. Because she loved and believed in him, despite Killian's protestations that he didn't deserve either. He would find a way to repay her. And to make up for all the hurt this godsforsaken plan cost them.

Killian was surprised to find a pigeon sitting calmly on top of one of the last boxes. He looked at it curiously, and nearly started when he noticed the small piece of paper tied to its leg. Snow. More importantly, Emma. She asked her mother to use her affinity for birds to get him a message. Eagerly, he untied the string and dashed off to his cabin, not wanting to be seen reading it on the deck. 

Killian – I think it's working. Belle was in here yesterday, asking about our argument. I didn't give her too many specifics, but I'm certain Gold sent her to poke around. Guy is seriously twisted. Anyway, I missed you last night. I'll come by the docks sometime this afternoon. I think we might have an audience this time. I love you – Emma 

Killian immediately held the note over the lit candle and watched as it went up in flames. An audience. That could only mean one thing. Rumplestiltskin. Belle was clever lass, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that she'd either figured it out for herself or taken some cue from Emma. Rumplestiltskin was so blinded by his own belief that he was right, that he probably wouldn't notice the warning signs. Probably. It was a risk they were going to have to take.

Killian was rechecking the rigging following their trips to the Enchanted Forest and Neverland when he caught sight of Emma walking – apparently furious – toward the docks. She was pretty far away still, if Killian hurried he could catch her closer to the park, where more people would see them. His stomach nearly rebelled at what was about to happen, but there was any chance this was going to work, then he had to do it.

Killian half jogged down the pier, only slowing when the park came into view. As he got closer, hope rose in his chest. Emma was right. Belle and the Crocodile were there. Killian put on his best indifferent facade and headed in Emma's direction.

“Come to yell at me again, love?” he called once she was in earshot.

“Save it, pirate,” Emma growled. “Mary Margaret said she saw you at the store yesterday commandeering supplies. Just where the hell do you think you're going?”

“Sending your mother to spy on me, love? That's a bit pathetic, wouldn't you agree?”

Emma turned a bit pink at that, but shook her head. “You lied to me, Killian,” she said, her voice rising. “What the hell is going on?”

“Haven't you figured it out yet, love? I'm leaving.” It felt like a knife going through his heart, but Killian managed to keep a straight face.

“What?” Emma asked stupidly.

“You heard me. I'm leaving this sodding town, seeing what this world has to offer a man of my particular talents. More importantly, Emma,” he said in an even voice, knowing his calmness would kill her. “I'm leaving you.”

Emma just stared at him, dumbstruck. He knew that this was her absolute worst fear and he, bastard that he was, was willing to use it. It didn't matter in that moment that it was ultimately in the name of saving both their lives and the world. It was absolute worst he had ever felt in his life and he desperately wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her tears and fears away. But he couldn't.

Emma's lip trembled and she shook her head violently. “No,” she said, almost a whisper. “This isn't happening.”

“I assure you it is, love. What did you think would happen? That I'd stay here with you? And your boy? Did you think you had domesticated me? Killian Jones, most feared pirate in all the realms? Surely a smart lass like you wouldn't be that naïve.”

“But...but you said,” Emma looked at him, her war with herself evident on her face. She hated being seen as weak – and this was worse because there was an audience – but it was a battle she was losing. They both knew this was a ruse, but their hearts didn't seem to care. Killian had to force himself to stay rooted to the spot, looking at her as if what he was saying wasn't killing him. “You love me,” Emma said weakly, her voice breaking.

Killian laughed. “How else was I supposed to get you to give me the time of day, love? I needed information on this world. That's all.”

A single tear slipped down Emma's cheek. But that was all. Her face hardened. “Don't call me that.”

“What? 'Love'? You think you're the only lass I've ever played this game with, darling? You were a bigger challenge than most, I'll grant you that. But I told you that on the beanstalk, love. I love a challenge.”

Emma's self control snapped. Her face crumbled and she came flying at him, her gun forgotten; she pelted him with her fists, tears streaming down her cheeks. He let her. No matter what damage she inflicted, it wouldn't be enough punishment for the awful untruths he had just said. “You...unimaginable...bastard,” she screamed. “I hate you.”

Killian pulled her off him; the fight instantly went out of her. “Calm yourself, love. Wouldn't want to make a scene now, would you?”

Emma glared at him, eyes full of hate. “If you ever come back here, I swear to god, I will kill you.” She wiped at her eyes furiously, took a deep breath to compose herself, turned and walked away. He watched her go, keeping his face impassive. He thought briefly of shouting a parting shot, but he didn't have the heart. And he didn't want to give the Crocodile the satisfaction anyway. Once Emma was out of sight, Killian headed back to the ship. All he could do now was wait.

He was bending over one of the maps Henry had given him when he heard it. The distinctive step thump of the Crocodile's gate. It was time.

 

When Emma left the docks, she was surprised to see where her feet had carried her. It was her parents' house. Emma knocked on the door and waited, praying they were still home. Mary Margaret opened the door and gasped. “Oh, Emma.” Her mother didn't hesitate; Mary Margaret held out her arms and Emma stepped into them, a sob wrenching her throat.

Emma wasn't sure how long they stood there like that. David must have closed the door at some point, because Emma couldn't hear the sounds from the street anymore. Her father hovered nearby, clearly unsure if what he should do. “David, honey,” Mary Margaret said at last, “why don't you get Emma a glass of water, okay?”

Mary Margaret guided Emma to the living room and sat next to her on the couch. Emma reached out for her mother's hand, needing that familiar connection right now. It had been a hard adjustment to make, but now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to turn to her parents for comfort and guidance. Until Killian contacted her, she had no one else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mary Margaret asked quietly.

Emma accepted the glass of water from David gratefully. As she took a sip, he sat on her other side. “We did it,” Emma said, her voice still barely above a whisper. “And Gold saw us.”

“I still don't like this plan,” David said. “Too many things could go wrong.”

“It's too late,” Emma snapped. “It's already done.”

David looked stricken. “I'm sorry, Emma. I know how hard this must be for you.”

“How?” she asked. He had never doubted how Snow felt about him.

“I, um, had to tell David I didn't love him,” Mary Margaret said quietly. “King George threatened to kill him if I didn't.”

“Oh my god,” Emma breathed.

“And for one awful minute, I believed it,” David said, rubbing circles in her back. “I went so far as to go on an impossible quest to try and deal with my broken heart. When I defeated the siren, I knew I had to fight for her.” David paused. “I know this isn't exactly the same, but I do understand.”

Emma stared down at her hands and sighed. “I know it was all fake, a show. But it felt real. The things he said...” Emma blinked, unwilling to cry again.

“Believe me, Emma,” Mary Margaret said seriously. “No one feels worse than Killian himself. It nearly killed me to lie to David.”

“I know that,” Emma said, biting her lip. “If I didn't know him so well, I'd have thought he meant it. I know he loves me. Like you guys just know. I just hope it was enough.”

“You said Gold saw you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said, letting out a shaking breath. The energy it had taken her to go down to the docks and listen to those terrible things was spent. “He and Belle were around. Pretending not to watch, but I know better. He saw everything.”

“How long do you think it will take him to make his move?” Mary Margaret asked.

“If I were Gold,” Emma said slowly, “I'd wait until dark. Nearly Everyone will be asleep, even he could make it to the docks without being seen then. All we can do now is wait.”

“We'll stay with you,” her mother said at once.

“You guys don't have to do that,” Emma protested. “I'll be fine.”

Her mother fixed her with a stare. “Are you going to sleep tonight?” she asked, astutely. “Be honest, Emma.”

Reluctantly, Emma shook her head. She'd only managed a couple of hours the night before and that had been in fits and starts. “Then you'll stay here with us,” David said. “We'll stay up with you, whatever you need.”

Emma looked between them, nearly overcome again. This was what she had been missing her entire life. A mom and a dad who cared about her, who worried about her. And while Emma knew she wasn't a child, it made her heart clench knowing that her parents were there and willing to stay up the night with her, like the girl who had monsters under her bed. “I love you guys,” she said quietly.

“Oh, honey,” Mary Margaret said, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “We love you too.” Emma felt David join in the hug from behind. “We're so proud of you, Emma,” he said into her hair.

Mary Margaret made them all a large batch of hot chocolate with cinnamon and they moved to the kitchen table. The three of them spent the night there, just talking. Her parents told her about some of their adventures in the Enchanted Forest, not all of which, she had been surprised to learn, wound up in Henry's book. Gradually, Emma told them a little bit more of what her life had been like before coming to Storybrooke. It was a topic the three of them had largely avoided, both due to Emma's walls and not wanting to make her parents feel any guiltier about what had happened with the curse than they did already. When she told them the story about finding out she was pregnant and giving Henry away, Mary Margaret started to cry softly.

“I hate that you went through that, Emma,” her mother said tearfully. “I hate that we weren't there for you.” Across from his wife, David nodded.

“You're here now,” Emma said emphatically. “That's what matters. Sure, it...well, it sucked pretty majorly, but I probably wouldn't have Killian if I'd grown up any other way.”

“I don't know about that, Emma,” David said. “If True Love is meant to be, it usually finds a way.”

“Are you saying that two people born centuries apart would have found each other regardless?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“Look at us,” David said. “I grew up a shepherd. Your mother's a princess. We shouldn't have met either, if you think about it.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Your father's right, Emma,” she said, wiping her eyes on a napkin. “True Love always finds a way.”

“You guys sound like Killian,” Emma said.

“Answer one question for me, Emma,” David said. “Do you believe that Killian is your True Love?”

Emma blinked. He was asking her this now? What was he smoking? “Yes,” she said, confused.

“Then everything will work out, kid,” he said. “Just like it did for your mom and me.”

When the first rays of dawn began to filter through the window, Emma really started to worry. Like really worry. She hadn't heard from Killian all night. Worse, she hadn't felt that tell tale tug on her heart that would indicate that someone tried to remove Killian's with magic. Something was wrong; she could sense it.

“Maybe Gold didn't go the ship last night,” Mary Margaret pointed out. “It could be nothing.”

“Mary Margaret, I got a text from August saying he was landing in Boston yesterday afternoon. It's not that far a drive. If Gold has the slippers, there's no reason not to go after his last ingredient.” Emma stood, starting to pace. “Besides, I'd feel it...here,” she said, holding her hand over her heart. “There's nothing.”

“Henry's safe; Regina said she'd keep him home today,” David cut in. He handed Emma her holster, then strapped on his own. “You want to go check on him, right?”

Emma looked at her father gratefully. He knew exactly what she was thinking. “Yeah.”

“I'm coming too,” Mary Margaret said.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma began, but her mother cut her off.

“Killian's a part of this family now,” she said simply. “We look after our own.”

As much as Emma didn't like putting them in harm's way, she couldn't help but be comforted by the fact that they were just as concerned about Killian as she was. All three of them were still tired, but Emma at least seemed to get a second wind as they all climbed in David's truck and drove to the docks. It appeared to be deserted. Emma was out of the truck before it even fully came to a stop, dashing toward the gangplank of the Jolly Roger. Behind her, David and Mary Margaret ran, sword and bow in hand respectively. As it always did, the gangplank lowered for her automatically and Emma ran up to the deck.

“Killian!” she called, ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be fighting. The jig was pretty much up on that plan as far as she was concerned. Having Killian beside her and safe was more important. “Killian!”

Don't panic, Emma reminded herself sternly as she walked toward the captain's cabin. There's no reason to panic yet. She heard rather than saw her parents go blow decks to search. They'd only been on the ship a handful of times – since they couldn't actually go out sailing because of the border spell – but knew their way around well enough.

Emma pushed open the door to the captain's cabin and let out a gasp. It was completely trashed. Maps strewn everywhere, chair upended, sheets torn. There was a scorch mark on the wall that could only have come from magic. Paper scrunched under her feet at she tore through the debris, as if she was going to find Killian hidden amongst it somewhere.

“Oh my god,” Mary Margaret breathed. “What happened?” Emma heard David come up from behind his wife as well.

“No idea,” Emma said absently as she looked under the desk.

“There was a fight,” David said unnecessarily.

Emma threw down the book she was holding. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Emma!” her mother exclaimed.

“Sorry, but I don't need either of you telling me things I can see with my own eyes.” Emma sat on the floor heavily, the slight sway of the ship – usually so comforting – making her sick. “He's not here,” she said weakly.

Her mother immediately knelt at her side, while David searched the room again, looking for some kind of clue as to what had happened. “”We'll find him, Emma,” Mary Margaret said quietly, stroking Emma's hair. “We will.”

Emma closed her eyes and took deep steadying breaths. Her mother was right, she couldn't afford to fall apart. She and Killian always managed to find each other when they got separated; this was no different. She would find him. She would find him and end this threat to their life together, once and for all.

“There's a catch under the desk,” Emma said slowly, opening her eyes. “Opens a secret drawer. Should be where Killian put the stardust.”

David looked at her curiously, but did as she asked, reaching under the desk and running his hand over the ancient wood. “I think I,” he said slowly, his hand pressing against something, “I think I got it.” There was a click and a drawer shot open. “I'll be damned.” David pulled out the pouch of stardust.

“Gold must not have known about it, or he'd have taken it,” Mary Margaret said.

Emma stood; she didn't care how or why the stardust had remained out of Gold's clutches. All she knew was that she had the way to find Killian. “Give me that,” she said to David, holding out her hand.

“Why?” David asked, eyebrows raised.

“Because I need it to figure out where Gold has Killian.”

“You're going to do that locator spell, like Regina,” her mother said accusingly.

Emma gave her a look. “Well, yeah.”

“Why can't Regina do it? She did before.”

“Because we don't have time, Mary Margaret! Don't you see that? Every moment we wait, is a moment where Gold could be cutting Killian's heart out. If you want that on your conscience, then be by guest.”

Silently, David handed Emma the pouch. He looked at his wife. “We have to let her try, Snow. It's Killian.”

Emma turned away from them, not having the time or the patience to deal with their worries about her magic. You have this power for a reason. I believe in you. No matter what anyone else thought Killian believed in her. She could do this, find him. She could.

Emma groped on the floor for one of the maps of Storybrooke that Killian kept. She spread it out on the desk, her eyes searching it. When she saw nothing, Emma shook out a pinch of the stardust into her palm. She had no idea what to do next. You just need to believe in yourself. That's what Tinkerbell had told her in Neverland. Furrowing her brow, Emma spread the dust over the map. Then she closed her eyes and focused. She needed to know where the dagger was; that's where Gold would be. Instinctively, her hand hovered over the map and Emma could feel the magic in her palm. Mary Margaret let out a gasp. Emma opened her eyes and looked at the map. Just like in the Sheriff's station there was a glowing spot on the map. 

It was along the main road into town, right next to the town line.

“Everyone know the plan?” David asked as he cut the engine. They were still a couple of miles away from the spot on the map, but if they got any closer they risked alerting Gold to their presence.

“I get Killian, you guys hold off Gold,” Emma recited. “Which I still think it dumb. I'm the one with magic, you know.”

“Emma,” her mother said, “your only priority should be getting Killian as far away from Gold as possible. We've dealt with him before, we'll be fine.”

“You do realize this plan is going to go to hell as soon as we get there, right?” All their other plans did. To Emma's mind, it was better if they just started firing by the seat of their pants and see what happened. David and Mary Margaret exchanged a look, but didn't say anything. Quietly as they could, the three of them piled out of the truck. David reached into the bed of the truck, handing Emma her sword, Mary Margaret her bow and quiver and taking his sword for himself. 

They entered the woods to the left of the road, staying parallel to it, but far enough away that they couldn't be seen. Please don't let us be too late, Emma recited to herself over and over as they walked. She firmly believed that she would know if Killian were dead, magic or no magic. He had felt it when Morgan had nearly choked her to death. He was still alive. Whatever had happened in his cabin, clearly Gold hadn't taken him without a fight. Although the question remained, why hadn't Gold tried to remove Killian's heart with magic? Did he somehow know that it was futile? Had her secret been betrayed? Or was the very idea that they could keep something like that from the Dark One a farce from the very beginning? Hell, it was even possible he knew about her powers before she did. Rumplestiltskin had manipulated her into existence after all.

Emma didn't have any answers and that – more than anything else – scared the shit out of her. It was entirely possible they were walking into a trap. Gold would take maniacal glee at murdering Killian in front of her. He nearly had once before. Only her impromptu game of chicken had stopped him. She hoped it wouldn't come to that this time.

As they got closer, Emma could feel the magic stirring in the air. Her locator spell had worked then; that was a small comfort at least. She nodded to her parents and the three of the spread out further, Emma taking point closest to the road. She swore if Gold so much as laid a finger on Killian, losing his precious powers were going to be the least of his problems. As she got nearer the road, the trees began thinning out. Emma ducked behind trees as she crept closer. 

There in the middle of the road, stretched out on a surgical table, was Killian.

He appeared to be alive, but unconscious. There was a cut on his forehead and his left hand hung at an odd angle, most likely broken. Hate boiled in her chest, hate for the monster that had done that to him.

The monster in question appeared, limping over to where Killian lay. Gold waved his hand over Killian's still form and said, “Time to wake up, Captain.”

Killian groaned and Emma's heart clenched. Even from where she stood hidden, she could see him stiffen when he caught sight of Gold. “Sod off, Crocodile,” he spat.

“All this will be over soon, dearie,” Gold said happily. “Just you wait.”

“You really think your pathetic excuse for a son is going to want anything to do with you?” Killian said angrily; he was pulling fruitlessly at his bonds, ignoring Gold's smug glare.

Gold's countenance darkened. “You know nothing about my Baelfire,” the imp shot back. “He'll forgive me when I bring his love and son back to him.”

Killian laughed; actually laughed, the crazy pirate. “Only one problem with that, mate. Emma and Henry aren't yours to give, like some sow at auction. They're living breathing people and have the right to make their own choices.”

“And you think they'll choose you?”

“Already have,” Killian said simply.

Emma exchanged a glance with her mother off to her right. Mary Margaret nodded, silently knocking an arrow, preparing to draw it back. They couldn't allow this to go on much longer. The magic was building, Emma noticed the enchanted objects now, forming a circle around Gold and Killian. She was about to give Mary Margaret the signal, when David waved at her frantically.

“What?” she mouthed at him, annoyed. Emma looked where David was pointing and her stomach dropped. Kneeling next to the town line, bound and gagged, were Jefferson and Grace. Emma couldn't fathom how they had gotten there or what Gold wanted them for. She looked from them to Gold and it was like a light bulb went on over her head. Gold was going to use Jefferson and Grace to test whether or not the curse had worked properly. That cold unfeeling bastard. Again, that didn't explain how Gold knew they were back or where to find them, but Emma was increasingly getting the feeling that their was a spy in their midst. She didn't have time to worry about that now. She had make sure the curse never got off the ground.

“Is your precious Savior going to come and save you again, pirate?” Gold said derisively. Killian's eyes widened a fraction, but his face remained impassive. “Oh yes, I am well aware that your little production was just that...a show. Had more than one person fooled though. Then again, most of this town isn't very...shall we say, bright?”

“Why do you just get it over with then?” Killian asked. “You didn't have to drag me out here; you could have taken what you needed on my ship.”

“But where would the satisfaction been in that?” Gold asked, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. The dagger. Emma's eye's widened and she looked at her mother. Mary Margaret nodded and readied her arrow once more. “After the pain you've caused me and my son, I wanted to watch the fire leave your eyes as I cut out your beating heart, dearie.”

Gold really was...there was no other word for it. A monster. 

“I don't understand you,” Killian said, drawing Emma away from her thoughts. “How you can treat people you claim to love so callously, like they belong to you. Like that sodding cane. That's not love...that's obsession. I know about that. Was bloody obsessed with you for three hundred years, how to kill you, how to get revenge for what you did to a woman I loved.”

“Milah was mine, pirate,” Gold spat. “You had no right to take her away.”

“I didn't take her, you bloody fool!” Killian screamed, furious. “She begged me to take her away with me. She wanted to get away from you! And you couldn't even muster the courage to fight for her. Then you couldn't muster the courage to stay with your boy. You're pathetic, Rumplestiltskin.”

Gold's eyes flashed and he raised the dagger. He started muttering an incantation; the magical objects began to glow. 

Emma's eyes were riveted to the scene; she couldn't even speak, cry out his name. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm. “Emma,” David whispered urgently. “Killian needs you. You with me?” She tore her eyes away long enough to nod once. David gave her a grim smile and nodded to Mary Margaret. Emma glanced at her mother in relief. Her mother's stance reminded her of Wonderland. She had done the same thing there; she'd even prayed for a bit of her mother's skill on that occasion. But there was no need this time. It wasn't inexperienced Emma drawing the bow, it was deadly accurate Snow White. 

The arrow whizzed through the air, straight between the space that separated Killian and Gold – sending the dagger flying through the air – and lodged in a tree on the opposite side of the road. “You,” Gold cried, looking at the place where Mary Margaret stood. 

Emma didn't think. She just ran. She sent a bolt of magic straight at Gold and he went flying. Emma hoped that someone was getting to Jefferson and Grace, because Emma only had one thought: get to Killian. 

“Emma.” 

She was in front of him in a blink. Up close, his injuries were worse. “What did he do to you?” Emma practically screamed. 

“It's nothing, love,” Killian said, soothingly. “Care to help a bloke out? Then you can heal me.”

“What?” Emma said, distracted. “Oh. Yeah.” She hurriedly untied him and helped him off the table. She wrapped one of his arms around her waist and looked for her parents. Mary Margaret was untying Jefferson and Grace while David covered her.

“Reminds me a bit of us,” Killian said, wincing a bit. “In Wonderland. Remember?”

Emma smiled tightly. “Yeah, I remember.” Slowly, she started edging Killian away, back toward the relative safety of the trees but David shouted her name.

“Emma! Behind you!”

Emma felt the magic a split second before it hit her square in the small of her back. She and Killian went sprawling. Reeling, Emma rolled over and raised herself up on her elbow. Her hands were skinned from trying to break her fall. Killian was groaning next to her. And a furious Rumplestiltskin was leaning heavily on his cane on the far side of the road. Another fireball glowed in his hand; he looked at her with pure hate.

“I will have his heart, dearie. Your undeveloped magic can't save him.”

“You should probably ask Cora and Morgan how that worked out for them,” Emma said, standing, her back to Killian, protecting him.

“Emma,” Killian whispered from behind her. 

“Killian, stay out of this,” Emma said harshly. She couldn't spare the concentration to argue with him. Her bravado aside, Cora and Morgan were lightweights compared to Rumplestiltskin. He had taught them, after all. Emma handed Killian her sword; she wouldn't need it for this.

Her attention was split for only a second, but that was enough. Rumplestiltskin sent the fireball straight for her, but David was too fast. He ran out in front of her sword raised and deflected the fireball into the woods.

“Damn it, David,” Emma shouted. “Get out of here!” He looked at her wide eyed for a second, then shook his head. Emma growled in frustration; her shield was already raised in case Gold took another shot at her. “I've got this! Find the dagger! GO!”

She had no idea where her mother, Jefferson and Grace were; she just had to hope that they had decamped for safer ground. Emma looked around for Gold but he was nowhere to be found. Had he done that teleport thing? If he had, she was kinda screwed.

“So, dearie, you think you're a match for me, eh?” Rumplestiltskin drawled from somewhere she couldn't see. “I must admit that I am intrigued. Care to make a deal?”

“You're getting no deals from me, Gold,” Emma said through clenched teeth. The fact that she couldn't see him was making her edgy. “Not again.”

“Ah, but dearie, I'd make it a sweet one for you. Your powers. You seem...uncomfortable with them. I can...relieve you of them if you choose. Take away those pesky powers and I can give your precious pirate.”

“You're bluffing,” Emma shot back. “Even if you did have that kind of power, you need Killian's heart for your curse. You may be power hungry, Gold, but you love your son. You're desperate to get back in his good books, apologize for abandoning him. You can't do either of those with my powers.”

If she could keep him talking, give David time to find the dagger, maybe, just maybe this could be done without further bloodshed and anguish. 

“But who said I wanted your powers for myself?” Gold asked in a deadly voice. The next thing Emma knew she was flat on her ass, being dragged away by some kind of living moving vine.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, trying to reach for her.

“Ah, ah, pirate,” Gold cut in, before Emma could shout a warning. Gold grabbed Killian by the arm, spun him around and plunged a different dagger into his chest.

“KILLIAN!” Emma screamed, as he crumpled to the ground.

Fury driving her, Emma blasted the vine that was dragging her away and stood. In a flash, she shot two bolts at Gold, but he was ready for her this time. He swallowed them with with the palm of his hand; Emma's eyes widened in shock. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Emma looked around wildly for something, anything. Her eyes lit upon the surgical table behind and to the left of Gold. She focused on it and to her satisfaction, it twitched. Emma glared at Gold. “You're not getting anything from us. Not my powers and certainly not Killian's heart.” She didn't dare look down at where he lay. She could still feel his heartbeat right along with hers; Killian was alive.

Gold laughed that cruel, high pitched laugh. “Do think you're True Love, dearie? You and the pirate? He's not capable of it. He only takes things that aren't his.”

Emma couldn't help it. A dire situation it might be, but Gold's attitude was so utterly ridiculous, she couldn't stop her eye roll. “For fuck's sake, Gold! Would you listen to yourself? You say Killian's not capable of love, let alone True Love. But are you? You're so desperate to get to your son that it's blinded you. Do you even know what this curse of yours could do? Do you care? You could destroy the fucking world! All to make up for your mistake. Are you really willing to take that chance?”

For the first time, doubt flickered in the man's eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw David appear out of the woods, holding up the dagger silently. Emma continued to stare at Gold. Slowly, so slowly, the glow of the magical objects started to fade. Emma let out a sigh of relief, and knelt down over Killian. He was pale, sweat covered his brow.

“Shhh,” Emma soothed, her hand brushing over his dark hair. “You're gonna be okay.” She kissed him once quickly, bracing herself for what she had to do. Emma wrapped her hand around the handle of the dagger; it had missed his heart by inches. She didn't have time to ponder if that was on purpose or not; she just had to get it out of him and heal him. Grimacing, Emma pulled out the dagger and tossed it aside. Immediately, she placed her hand over the bloody wound and waited for the tell tale glow of magic in her hand. In moments, the wound closed and the glow spread to his other injuries. Emma blinked away tears as Killian looked up at her, the light back in his bluer than blue eyes.

“Hello, love,” he said.

“Hey,” Emma replied, smiling.

“NO!” 

The magical circle glowed red and Emma got blasted back. She hit a tree – hard – and her vision swam. When it cleared, she saw her father running at Gold, tackling him to ground in a fit of rage. Prince and pawnbroker scuffled. David punched Gold in the face, as Emma scrambled to get up. She was about to run into the fray when Gold hit David hard with his cane, knocking her father out cold. The dagger was nowhere to be seen. Emma screamed in fury and without thinking sent the metal surgical table flying at Gold, knocking the imp backwards before he could get fully to his feet. She picked her sword up off the ground and advanced on Gold, more furious than she could ever remember being in her entire life. This monster had attacked her True Love, her father, nearly every member of her family. She wanted to make him hurt, make him bleed, as her loved ones had done. She could feel the power coursing through her and she had no desire to curb it, to reign it in. She was going to make Rumplestiltskin pay.

For the first time, true fear shown in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. Each time he started to rise, Emma used her magic to push him back down. She was done with this nonsense. Emma placed the point of the blade at his heart, before raising it with every intention of causing bodily harm.

“Emma.”

At the sound of Killian's voice, Emma turned her head. He was standing there, next to David's limp form, holding the dagger aloft. “It's over, love,” he said simply. 

Emma shook her head stubbornly. “He tried to kill you, Killian. And he was going to test that curse on Jefferson and Grace. David is...” she trailed off.

“David's breathing just fine, love. We'll get him fixed up in a minute, yeah?” Killian said, advancing toward her slowly. “All we have to do is sprinkle ourselves some stardust and the Crocodile won't be able to hurt anyone else ever again. Give me the sword, Emma.”

Emma looked from Killian to David to Gold, her eyes going wide with horror. What had she almost done? This wasn't her. She wasn't a vindictive person at heart. Slowly, Emma lowered the sword and handed it to Killian. Behind her, Gold stirred. 

Killian glared at him. “Move a muscle,” he said in a dangerous voice, “and I'll not be as kind as the lady, Crocodile.” Killian handed Emma the dagger. “Here, love.”

Emma held the dagger in her hand gingerly, almost like she were holding a bomb. And in a way she was. The power of the dagger called to her; she could practically feel the dark magic that had created it hum over her fingertips. She shook her head. No, it was time to end this. And not with a death, but with a fresh start. Emma pulled out the pouch of stardust and pulled the drawstring open.

“Wh-wh-what is that?” Gold asked.

“Stardust from Neverland,” Emma said, turning back to look at him. “It's going to end your power once and for all.”

Gold looked terrified. If he hadn't caused so much misery in her own life, Emma would have felt sorry for him. “No! You can't,” he pleaded. “I can change...”

“Sorry, Gold. You've run out of chances,” Emma said, and poured the contents of the bag over the dagger. The dagger glowed blue then slowly began to disintegrate.

A bright flash blinded Emma and she felt herself being thrown to the ground for what felt like the eighteenth time since arriving at the border, and this time she distinctly heard her shoulder pop out of joint. She cried out in pain, squeezing her eyes shut against it. When she managed to open them, her brain instantly rebelled at what it was seeing.

Killian lay near her in the road, still as a stone. Dead.

No. It couldn't be. Not now. Not just when their family was finally safe. Emma's vision swam as tears spilled down her cheeks. No, he was just out cold. He had to be. But deep down, Emma knew the truth. She could only feel one heartbeat in her chest and it was her own. 

Emma crawled to where Killian lay, getting angrier as she moved. “Damn you,” she cursed. “Damn you. You had to make me care, make me love you,” she said, pounding on his still chest fruitlessly. She ignored the near blinding pain in her injured shoulder. “You can't leave me. You can't swoop into my life, then just be gone, Killian. You can't. Come back to me.”

“As I said, dearie,” Gold said in a quiet voice. “They always leave in the end.”

Emma barely registered that he had spoken. She knew she should be furious; with the last vestiges of his power Gold had obviously done something, but Emma was beyond anger now. She was beyond hurt. Or anguish. Or pain. She was completely numb.

“Move one inch closer to either of them and you'll have a limp in both legs,” Mary Margaret said in a deadly serious voice. 

Where her mother had come from, Emma had no idea. Everything sounded like it was coming from far away, like she was underwater. Was this was drowning felt like? Emma felt like she couldn't get any air, like a dark shroud clouded her vision. She laid her head on Killian's chest; there was no sound there. Her tears had stopped; she curled into a ball, her head still on Killian's chest. It was like everything that she was had been sucked out of her.

How long she laid there, Emma didn't know. She didn't know if she would ever move again. How could she leave him?

“Emma?” a quiet hesitating voice – Mary Margaret's – said. Emma ignored it. 

A hand touched her shoulder; Emma couldn't feel it. “Emma?” This voice was groggier. It was David. “Emma? Sweetheart, we have to move him. You can't stay here.” Emma ignored him too.

“David,” Mary Margaret said, quietly. “Give her a few minutes, please.”

“What even happened? The last thing I remember I was fighting with Gold...”

“I'm not sure exactly. As soon as I got Jefferson and Grace out of danger, I came back. Just in time to see Emma pouring the dust over the dagger. There was a flash; it looked like it came from Gold.” Mary Margaret sniffed. “It was headed straight for Emma. Killian shoved her out of the way.”

“A flash?” David asked, bewildered. “Like a curse or something?”

“I don't know,” Mary Margaret said, sadly. “Maybe.”

Emma felt like a switch had been flipped; suddenly the world came back into focus. “A curse?” she said, sitting up. “Like the sleeping curse?” It was a straw, a pipe dream, a puff of smoke, but Emma latched on to it like a life line.

Her mother's eyes snapped to her, looking worried. “Emma, I know you want to believe, but...”

Emma shook her head, looking from her mother to her father. “I have to try, Mom,” she said. “I'd never forgive myself if I didn't.”

Emma didn't give either of them a chance to respond; she spun around on her knees and looked at Killian's still form. He looked like he was sleeping. And True Love's Kiss was supposed to break any curse, or so she'd been told. She wanted – no, she needed to believe that. She needed Killian. So much. Emma couldn't go back to that person she'd been before she met him. She couldn't. And Henry needed his dad. They needed to be a family, raise children of their own. She needed her happy ending and Emma believed with all of her soul that it included Killian Jones.

Slowly, gently, Emma took his cold hand in hers. She pressed a kiss to the back of it, a stray tear splashing on her cheek. “I love you, Killian,” she said in a whisper, before lowering her lips to his.

The familiar woosh of magic pulsed out from where their lips met, Emma's hair flying. She pulled back and looked at him. Killian's brilliant blue eyes flew open and he gasped harshly. Emma was on him the next second, not giving him time to breathe, just needing him back in her arms. As she felt his arms tighten around her, Emma let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She let out an all mighty sob into his shoulder, not caring who saw her.

“Emma,” Killian said, holding her tight and stroking her hair. And at that moment, her name was the greatest sound she had ever heard.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter before the epilogue!

The drive back to town was crowded. Jefferson, Grace and all the magical objects sat in the bed of David's truck. Snow was sitting next to David as he drove and Emma sat in Killian's lap, their arms wrapped securely around one another, still in shock over what had happened.

Killian himself still wasn't sure what had occurred. The last thing he remembered clearly was the flash of the curse and shoving Emma out of the way. It must have hit him, done...something. The next thing he knew a tear stained and relieved looking Emma was swimming into his vision and throwing herself at him in a fierce bear hug.

It had taken some time to sort things out after that. Emma's shoulder had been injured when he shoved her aside, so after she healed herself, Emma made it a point to sort out David as well. Every time Killian tried to get her to explain what had happened, Emma would hush him with a kiss, and tell him they'd take about it later. Killian had pretty good idea what the curse had done, though. Emma had that haunted desperate look in her eyes when he'd awoken. He was certain it was the same look he'd had back in Camelot when he'd thought Emma was dead. So when it came time to pile into David's truck, there had been no question about the seating arrangements. Killian kept Emma as close to him as he could, knowing that she needed that tangible connection between them.

“The thing I can't figure is _where_ Gold got to,” David was saying. “The dagger's destroyed, right? He doesn't have any powers anymore.”

Emma sighed. “Yes. I _saw_ the dagger disintegrate, David. It's gone.”

“Then where'd he go? It's not like he's especially _mobile_ ,” David argued.

“No one saw him walk – or hobble – away?” Snow asked, looking around.

Everyone shook their heads. Killian suspected Gold slunk away into the woods, unwilling even now to accept help from the people who defeated him. Gold would only emerge once they had gone, probably calling his precious Belle to come and fetch him and listen to his tale of woe.

“Do you think we should have made more of an effort to search for him?” Snow asked worriedly.

“No,” Emma said defiantly. “Gold got out there _somehow_. Let him get back the same way.”

“Do you know how he got there, Killian?” David asked.

Killian shook his head. “I was unconscious, mate,” he informed them. “Everything's a blank from the time the Crocodile showed up at the _Roger_ to waking up on the sodding table.”

Emma tightened her hold on him. Killian stroked her back gently, reassuring her that he was there and fine. It was only late afternoon judging by the height of the sun in the sky; whatever happened to the Crocodile, it was more than enough time for him to get back to town.

“I think we should drop Jefferson and Grace off before going back to town,” David said. “Make sure they're settled. Then we'll take Killian and Emma home.”

“We have to stop at Regina's first,” Emma piped up. “We promised Henry we'd get him as soon as it was safe.”

Snow reached over and laid a hand on Emma's arm. “Of course we can, honey,” she said softly. Killian wondered what had happened after Emma had left the park the previous day. There was a closeness between Emma and her parents that hadn't been there the last time they'd all been together.

David pulled down the long drive to Jefferson's house. It looked much like it had the last time Killian had seen it, even though it felt like a lifetime ago. Had it really been less than two weeks ago that he and Emma were searching the large house for signs of the Hatter and his daughter?

When the truck came to a stop, David turned to them. “Snow and I will help Jefferson and Grace; you guys stay here.”

“No arguments here, mate,” Killian said, nodding gratefully at the prince. Once they were alone, Killian look up at Emma. “Are you alright, love?”

Emma looked down at him, a hint of the haunted frightened look still glimmering in her sea green eyes. “Yeah, I'm fine,” she said quietly. “Or I will be. I just want to be home with you and Henry.”

Killian tightened his arms around her waist. “Do you want to talk about it? What happened.” He didn't elaborate; she knew what he meant.

Emma covered his heart with her hand. “You're okay, right? Nothing...missing?”

“I'm completely whole, Emma,” Killian said. “But you know that's not what I meant.”

“What do you want me to say, Killian?” Emma said in exasperation. “That I thought you were dead? That my world was completely shattered? That I would have stayed curled up on that road forever? That as soon as my mom said it was a curse I grasped onto that straw with everything I had? Is that what you want to hear?”

Killian reached a hand up to her face in an attempt to soothe her. “I'm right here, love,” he said. “Not going anywhere. You saved me...again.”

“With True Love's Kiss,” Emma said in amazement. “I know that's how I broke the curse originally, but I didn't know if it would work the same. Or at all. What if it was a one time thing? Or we weren't really...” She shook her head, unwilling to say it. “I just knew I had to try. I couldn't lose you like that. 

Killian brushed his thumb over her lips gently. “I'd do it again,” he said seriously. “I'd never be able to face Henry if I had to tell him you weren't coming home. We both need you too much.”

“Henry needs you too, Killian. _I_ need you. You didn't even know what that was!” she cried.

“As many times as you've saved me, you honestly have to wonder at me moving heaven and earth to save you? Lass, I have no life without you. But you...you have your family, your son. _You_ need to survive.”

“They're your family too,” Emma said stubbornly. “You should have seen Mary Margaret and David when I realized something had gone wrong. They were determined to come with me. To save _you_. Because you're just as much a part of our family as me or Henry. Whether you want to admit it or not.” 

Killian pulled her down, brushing his lips over hers tenderly. “I'm sorry I frightened you, love. Truly. I'll take more care in the future.”

“You better,” Emma said, giving him a small smile. It warmed his heart to see it. They really were fine. The danger was passed...mostly. And Snow and David were going to help finish this little adventure for them. It truly would be a family affair. “You saved me too, you know,” Emma said suddenly, breaking his reverie. “Back there. With Gold.”

“I told you once before, love,” Killian said. “You're not going to wind up like them...like him. Not as long I draw breath.”

“I wanted to hurt him,” Emma admitted. “Make him pay for what he'd done to you, to David. I've never felt anything like that that before. Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

Emma sighed. “When Henry was...you know, I threatened Regina, remember? But this was...more.” She shook her head. “I'm not explaining it very well. I just...he _hurt_ you. And David. I just...”

Killian took her face in his hands. “I understand you _perfectly_ , my love. That's why I stopped you. You're better than that, better than me. I won't let darkness enter your soul.”

“Killian, everyone has darkness in their soul,” Emma said. “It's whether or not you choose to give into it that matters. I almost did. And it scares me.”

“That won't happen,” Killian said emphatically. “I'll always be there to remind you, keep you grounded. I promise.”

“But Gold,” Emma began.

Killian shook his head. “Sod the Crocodile. I didn't do it to save his miserable hide. I did it for _you_. The whole world could crash around us and it wouldn't matter unless you were safe. I'll always choose you.”

“That...that should bother me,” Emma said slowly. “But it doesn't. My whole life people have put the greater good first. And I get that. But...”

“It doesn't make the hurt go away,” Killian finished for her. “Love, if _anyone_ deserves to be put first, it's _you_. You and Henry are my only priorities.” He held up her hand, the one with the ring. “We're a family. I'll _never_ abandon you. Not willingly. Only death could separate us now.”

Emma swallowed uncomfortably. “Let's try to make that many, _many_ years from now, okay? I'm not ready for you to not be here.”

Killian smiled up at her hopefully, then pulled her into a loving kiss. They only broke apart when the truck door opened. Emma was a bit pink in the cheeks as her mother climbed into the truck, but Killian merely nodded at the princess. He would never be ashamed of giving Emma all the love and affection she deserved.

The drive back into town was quiet. After listening to Emma tell him about how Snow and David had risked themselves to save his life, Killian didn't quite know what to say to them. He'd find a way to thank them, to show how much he appreciated their welcome into their family. He was too exhausted to think much about it at the moment. All he wanted was to for them to fetch Henry and go _home_.

When they pulled up in front of the Queen's mansion, Henry came pelting out of the door before the truck had even come to a stop. “Mom! Dad!” he yelled, grinning. “You did it!”

Emma was out of his lap and out the door in a flash, Killian hot on her heels. This time he didn't hesitate; Killian joined in the hug, silently thanking the gods for the safety of the people he loved most in the world.

Emma was kissing Henry fondly on top of the lad's unruly brown hair when the Queen appeared. Killian immediately stiffened and pulled away, angling himself to stand between Emma and Regina. “So,” Regina said, with a tone of mild surprise, “you managed to defeat Rumplestiltskin?”

“We wouldn't be here if we hadn't, Your Majesty,” Killian shot back.

“Mom,” Henry said, trying to get out of Emma's grip. Emma looked at Killian, her eyes giving him a silent warning, _back off_.

Killian immediately let his shoulders droop into a more casual position, but he didn't move. He wasn't sure what it was but there was something in Regina's manner that he didn't like. Like she truly hadn't expected them to return. He was brought out of that thought by Snow, who came to stand between them. Regina looked even less pleased about this but she didn't say anything.

“We can all be civil,” the princess admonished. She nodded at Henry. “Regina, thank you for watching over Henry. I know I, for one, felt better knowing he was being looked after by someone he loves.”

Regina looked at Snow in surprise. She gave Snow a tentative smile. “I...appreciate that,” the Queen murmured. She looked at her son. “We had fun, didn't we, Henry?”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed, looking among the adults hopefully. Killian knew how important it was to the lad that his family get along. Suddenly he felt a little ashamed of his attitude toward Regina. What was it this realm called it? Innocent until proven guilty? And he had _nothing_ to base his odd feeling on; nothing except his own contemptuous past with the Queen. He resolved to behave himself, for Henry's sake.

“Why don't you go get your things, lad?” he said to Henry. “We've trespassed on your mum's hospitality long enough.”

“One minute!” Henry cried, pulling away from Emma and running into the house.

“Thank you, Regina,” Emma said, coming to stand next to Killian. “For everything.”

“You're welcome, Miss Swan,” Regina said formally. Then the Queen raised a brow. “What happened?”

“It's kind of a long story,” Emma sighed. “The bottom line is Gold won't be bothering any of us anymore. His powers are gone; the dagger's destroyed.”

Killian noticed the impressed look that crossed Regina's face. “Rumplestiltskin is dangerous, Miss Swan. He's cunning and resourceful; he'll be angry.”

Emma stared down the Queen defiantly. “Let him try. He can't hurt us with magic anymore. _If_ he'd be crazy enough to try something, I can just lock him up. Let's see him get out of _that.”_

“Charming and I will be taking the enchanted objects back to their rightful realms,” Snow cut in. “Once we've done that, everything should go back to normal.”

“As normal as things ever are in this town,” Emma muttered. Killian grinned.

“If there's anything I can do,” Regina began, then stopped as if the words were foreign to her.

“There isn't,” David said, not unkindly. “But thanks, Regina.”

Henry came running out of the house toting his bag. He hugged Regina goodbye and followed his parents and grandparents to David's truck. Killian, Emma and Henry rode in the bed during the short drive from Regina's to their apartment. They climbed out and gathered at the driver's side door. David and Snow looked at them, concerned.

“Are you sure you're okay?” David asked, looking from Emma to Killian and back.

“We're fine,” Emma replied without hesitation. “Thanks though. When are you...leaving?”

Snow looked from her husband to Emma. “Tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Unless you need us. It's probably best to get everything back where it belongs quickly, don't you think?”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “We'll come by...you know, see you off.” Killian could sense the idea of her parents leaving made her uncomfortable.

“We'll be back before you know it,” David said. “Shouldn't take long. We know where everything belongs, thanks to Jefferson.”

“The Hatter told you?” Killian said surprised.

“Gave us a list before we left his place,” David confirmed. “A couple of days, sounds easy enough.”

“That's what we said about getting Gold's weed,” Emma pointed out.

“Yeah, well, all our enemies are _here_ ,” David said. “No offense, Killian.”

Killian smiled sardonically. “None taken,” he replied. “No sense arguing with the truth.”

“Killian!” Emma said. “What happened wasn't your fault.”

“I'm not saying it was, love,” Killian said, even though he knew it was. “I'm just agreeing with David. Their trip should be significantly less eventful than ours.”

“We'll talk more about this in the morning,” Snow said firmly. “You guys should all get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Emma said reluctantly. Killian could tell she wanted to argue some more. “I guess we'll see you tomorrow. Oh and guys? Thanks.”

Seeing the look between Emma and her parents...he couldn't help the tiny twinge of jealousy. Killian could barely remember his own parents – one dead, the other disappeared – and the things he did remember...in his father's case, none of it was very good. It just made him all the more determined to be a better father to Henry than his own had been. Good nights said, Killian guided Emma and Henry into the apartment.

All three of them plopped down on the couch, Henry between them and his bag left forgotten on the floor. “So what _really_ happened?” Henry asked excitedly.

Emma looked at her son warily. “Oh, Henry,” she began.

“The lad has a right to know, love,” Killian interjected. “We promised him.”

Emma looked at him over Henry's head, her gaze both concerned and resigned. Killian knew she wanted to protect Henry from the...unpleasantness of the man that was his grandfather. But they owed Henry the truth.

“Well, you'll have to start because I have no idea what happened when Gold showed up on the ship, Killian,” Emma said. “I'd like to hear it too.”

Slowly, Killian told the story. He managed to leave out the more horrible things Rumplestiltskin had said during their confrontation on board the _Jolly Roger_ ; Henry didn't need to hear those things. But he answered every question Henry had honestly, probably more honestly than Emma would have liked, but that's just who Killian was.

“So why couldn't Mr. Gold cut out your heart?” Henry asked.

Emma handed Killian a glass; it was hot cocoa. “Well, lad, that is where your mother and grandparents come in,” Killian informed him, nodding at Emma.

“Your Grams went full on Snow White on him,” Emma said to Henry's unspoken question. “Shot the dagger out of his hand with an arrow.”

“Cool!” Henry cried. “I wish I could have seen that.”

Killian exchanged a look with Emma. In this they were united, that was the _last_ place Henry needed to be. “It wasn't what you think, Henry,” Emma said quietly. “There was nothing fun in what happened.”

Henry grew somber, looking from Killian to Emma. “I know that, Mom,” he said. “You think I don't understand, but I do. But you guys stopped Mr. Gold, right? He's not going to hurt us anymore, right?”

“No, Henry, he's not. We stopped him.”

“How?”

Killian and Emma took turns explaining the curse, Emma's magical duel with Rumplestiltskin, and destroying the dagger. When they got to Rumplestiltskin flinging one final curse at Emma and Killian pushing her out of the way, Emma had to stop, taking deep breaths to compose herself.

Henry, perceptive lad that he was, reached over and took his mother's hand. “Was it like the sleeping curse?” he asked softly. “Did you save him with True Love's Kiss? Like in the story?”

It was Killian who answered him. “Aye, lad. She did.” Emma sent him a grateful look.

“I knew it!” Henry said excitedly. “I knew you were! Just like Grams and Gramps!”

Henry's obvious enthusiasm got Emma to smile. “Yeah, Henry, I guess we are.” She hugged her son fiercely. “I have my two True Loves right here with me.” And Killian was suddenly reminded that Emma had saved _Henry_ with True Love's Kiss as well. He reached out and took Emma's hand as she continued to hug their son. She squeezed his fingers, her lips quirking up in a small smile.

The rest of the evening was quiet; none of them strayed very far from the couch. Emma ordered some pizza and they spent some time watching a few of Henry's favorite films. He was more enthusiastic than ever about stories and fairy tales and heroes. At last, Killian saw the lad starting to nod off. He nudged a sleepy Emma gently and nodded at Henry.

“I think it's time for bed,” he said softly.

Henry yawned. “I'm alright. Can we just finish this one?”

Emma shook her head. “You heard your dad, Henry,” she admonished. It sounded less than convincing with her own tiredness. “Bedtime.”

Henry sighed. “Okay. We can finish _Aladdin_ tomorrow.”

Killian got Henry took his feet. “You go on, love,” he said to Emma. “I'll take him.”

Emma kissed him lightly. “Thanks. Don't take too long.”

Henry wrinkled his nose. “Ew, gross.”

Killian laughed, wrapping arm around Henry's shoulders. “Come on, you.”

“Night, Mom.”

“Good night, Henry.”

Killian led Henry upstairs. As he tucked him in, he said, “Think about where you want to go on that vacation, Henry. As soon as Snow and David return, I think we'll go. Wherever you want, yeah?”

Henry smiled sleepily. “Yeah. I will. Night, Dad.”

Killian kissed his forehead gently. “Good night, Henry.”

Quietly, Killian descended the stairs and made his way to the bedroom. He found Emma sitting on the bed looking exhausted. Without a word, Killian toed off his boots before kneeling in front her. “Do you want to sleep or shower, love?” They were both a little worse for wear; he thought either would be welcome at the moment.

“Sleep, I think,” Emma said. “We can shower tomorrow.”

“As you wish.” Killian reached out for the hem on her shirt and drew it over her head. Quickly and efficiently, he removed the rest of her clothing, then his own. Even though Henry was home, Killian didn't try to find pajamas for them and Emma didn't protest. He suspected that she was feeling the same as him; the need to be as close to each other as they could. Clothing would just get in the way of that.

Killian climbed into the bed and drew Emma close to him. She curled into his side eagerly, her head on his chest. “I almost lost you today,” she said quietly.

“Aye, but you didn't,” Killian pointed out. “You saved me. Again.”

“Yeah, after you saved me.”

“We saved each other. As we always do, love. And tomorrow your parents are going to finish what we started while we keep watch here. I think we've earned a bit of a reprieve, don't you?”

“I don't like the idea of them leaving,” Emma admitted.

Killian held her tighter. “I know, love. How do you think they felt while we were gone? You saw them in the Seeing Stones. But they had faith that we would return. Now we must have faith in them. Unless you _want_ to go on another adventure?”

Emma looked up at him, her eyes weary. “No, I think I'm all adventured out. Doesn't mean I have to like it though.”

“Emma, if I know anything about your parents, it's that they will both do the right thing _and_ find a way back to you. If David's right, they won't be gone long. There are more than enough beans now.”

“Okay, I know you're right. It just _feels_...”

“Like they abandoning you again,” Killian finished. “I know. But this family fights to stay together. Once everything goes back to normal, we'll spend some quality time with them, yeah? You and your mother have a wedding to plan, after all.”

Emma blushed. “That sounds like _work_ ,” she said, her tone teasing. “Can't we just go to Vegas or something?”

“Do you really want to forgo all the wedding festivities?” Killian asked. “I'd be happy with whatever you want, my love. But I did spend quite a bit of time whilst in that cell contemplating watching you walk toward me on the deck of the _Jolly Roger._ ”

“You did?” Emma asked, surprised.

“Aye. But if that's not what you want, we can do something else. As long as I get to call you mine, it doesn't matter to me.”

“But you can already do that,” Emma pointed out, a small smile on her lips.

“Maybe I want to make an honest woman of you,” he teased right back and Emma laughed. It warmed his heart to hear her laugh after the trials of the last few days.

“Okay, okay,” Emma said in mock surrender. “A _small_ ceremony on the deck it is. But I'm not wearing some poofy princess dress.”

“Love, you'll be stunning no matter what you wear. You always are.” He felt, rather than saw, the heat rise on her cheeks. Killian kissed the top of her head lovingly. “Sleep now. I've got you, Emma.”

 

Emma woke up the next morning, still wrapped securely in Killian's arms. She made no effort to move, content to revel in the comfort she found there. After the events of the last few days, she needed that more than ever. She kissed his chest lightly, not wanting to wake him. Laying here with him, it almost felt like the horrors of the day before was little more than a bad dream. But she knew it had been all too real. If she closed her eyes, she could see Killian's lifeless body laying in the middle of the road. Instinctively, Emma tightened her hold on him. That caused Killian to stir.

“What's wrong, love?” he asked groggily.

“Sorry,” Emma murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nonsense,” Killian replied, more awake now. “What is it?”

Emma sighed. “It's nothing, really. I'm fine.”

“You're not,” Killian said knowingly. “But you will be. We've been through quite a lot recently.”

Emma merely nodded, knowing he was right. She looked up toward the ceiling. “Do you think Henry's still asleep?”

Killian's brow furrowed. “Aye, it was pretty late when we hustled him off to bed. Why do you ask?”

“I don't know about you, but I'd really like that shower you were talking about.”

Killian grinned. “Aye, I like the way you think, my love.”

Abruptly, Killian slid out from under her and scooped Emma up into his arms. She couldn't help the laugh that tumbled from her lips as Killian carried her into the bathroom, setting her down gently on the edge of the vanity before turning on the shower. As the water warmed, he turned back to her and pounced, kissing her deeply. Emma groaned against his lips, spreading her knees apart, pulling Killian close to her. Her tongue twisted with his, passion and need building in her. She needed this, needed him. An affirmation that they were alive and together and nothing could ever come between them.

Killian trailed his hands up along her sides, thumbs brushing over her taut nipples making her gasp. “Killian,” she breathed, angling her head as his lips trailed down her neck. “The shower's...going to get...cold.”

“Sod the shower,” Killian said, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Emma moaned, louder than she should have; her fingers tangling in his hair. Desire pooled in her stomach; her hips rocked involuntarily. She knew they should get to the shower – Henry could wake up at any time – but Emma couldn't muster the will to protest.

“Killian...the shower,” she gasped, as he nipped at her flesh.

“I'll have you there as well, love,” he murmured. “ _Later.”_

“Oh my god.” Emma arched into his touch, dragging her legs up along his hips trying to pull him closer. Killian took the hint, running his hands along her thighs, guiding her legs around his waist. He abandoned her breast and captured her lips again in a desperate, needy kiss. Emma snaked her hand between them and guided him to her entrance, unwilling to wait any longer. She needed to feel him inside her, needed that connection.

Killian smirked against her lips, as he teased her entrance. “In a hurry, love?”

“ _Yes_ ,”she said breathlessly. “I need you, Killian.”

Killian groaned at her words and thrust forward, taking her completely. He wasted no time, moving hard and fast, giving them what they both craved. He always felt so perfect like this; they felt perfect _together_. It was unlike anything she'd ever known in her life and Emma prayed it always would be.

“I missed you so much,” Killian said, pressing kisses over her collar.

“I know,” Emma breathed, threading her finger through his hair. “I missed you too.”

Emma tightened her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her. He bottomed out and they both groaned. “Gods, you feel _amazing_ ,” Killian said in a low gravely voice.

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot within her, making her cry out. She pulled him in for a kiss, desperate to muffle her whimpers and cries. The walls of the apartment were painfully thin. She could feel her muscles beginning to tremble; it wouldn't be long. “Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

Killian did as she asked, taking her so hard the sink shook. Shudders wracked her body, but she clung to him, teetering on the edge of her release. Killian nipped at her ear, his body was straining trying to hold off his high. “Come for me, love,” he whispered harshly in her ear. ''

Emma shuddered once more and covered her lips with his, muffling her scream as it hit her hard. Wave after wave crashed into her; she felt like it would never stop. Killian thrust forward twice more before stilling within her, his cry muffled by her kiss. They broke apart breathing heavily, each of them resting their heads on each other's shoulder.

“I love you, Emma,” Killian breathed, kissing her neck. “So much.”

Emma stroked his back lovingly. “I love you too, Killian.” She pulled his head up and kissed his lips gently. “Always.”

They were still catching their breath when they heard Henry stirring upstairs. “So much for that shower,” Emma said, sighing heavily.

“We can still shower, love,” Killian pointed out. “But that's _all_ we'll be able to do.”

“And who's fault is that?”

“Yours,” Killian said without hesitation. “You're irresistible.”

Emma rolled her eyes, a comforting sense of normalcy enveloping her. “Says you,” she retorted. “Come on, we'll have to hurry. If you haven't wasted all the hot water.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emma was dressed and heading out to the living room. Henry was sitting at the kitchen counter, munching on a bowl of cereal. “Morning, kid,” she said, ruffling his hair.

“Hi, Mom. Where's Dad?”

“Getting dressed,” Emma said, heading over to the coffee maker. She poured in the grounds and filled the pot, pouring the correct amount of water into the heater. “Could you get out his mug? He'll want his tea, no doubt.”

Henry jumped off the stool and hurried to find Killian's favorite mug. It was one that Henry had gotten him not long after they returned from Wonderland; it was blue and embossed with an anchor. Henry expertly filled the kettle and found a tea bag. Emma was savoring her first cup of coffee when Killian emerged from the bedroom.

“Thanks, Henry,” he said, seeing his mug all ready for him on the counter.

“How do you know it was Henry?” Emma asked.

“Love, I'm not deaf,” he pointed out, pouring hot water over his tea bag.

“Are we gonna see Gram and Gramps off?” Henry asked, going back to his cereal.

“Yeah,” Emma said. That uncomfortable feeling was back; Killian squeezed her shoulder.

“What?” Henry said.

“It's nothing, Henry.”

“Are you worried they won't come back?” her far too perceptive for his own good son asked. “Because they're Snow White and Prince Charming, Mom. Of course they'll be back.”

Emma smiled; somehow the kid always knew how to make her feel better. “Yeah, they will. We'll see them off, then head over to the stables. How's that sound?”

“Cool! My mom started teaching me how to jump while you were gone,” Henry said excitedly. “I can show you!”

Emma felt a bit of momentary panic; the idea of her small son _jumping_ while riding a horse kinda freaked her out. But she also knew that Regina was an expert horsewoman; if anyone could teach Henry how to do it properly, it was Regina.

“Can't wait,” she said finally. Henry missed her pause, having returned to his breakfast already. Killian _didn't_ and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “He'll be fine, darling,” he whispered.

“I know.”

An hour later, Emma, Killian and Henry were gathered on her parents' doorstep. Mary Margaret opened the door and ushered them all inside. Two large backpacks sat against the wall, filled to bursting. Probably with clothes and food, Emma mused. They wouldn't have the luxury of having an entire pirate ship as storage where they were going.

Mary Margaret hugged each of them in turn, smiling. “How are you?” she asked Emma.

“Okay,” Emma replied, forcing some cheerfulness into her voice. “All ready?”

“I think so,” Mary Margaret said. “I'd forgotten how much _stuff_ one needed for something like this.”

“It'll be old hat, you'll see,” David chimed in, coming to stand beside her.

“Where do you have to go?” Henry asked.

“Lots of places,” David said. “Oz, Narnia, Camelot. Nearly every magical realm had something stolen.”

“Except Wonderland,” Killian said. “And Neverland.”

“Yeah, be glad you're not going to either of those places,” Emma said. “Not good vacation spots. At all.”

“Jefferson gave us some advice,” David said. “We should be fine.” He squeezed his wife's shoulder. “Right, Snow?”

But Mary Margaret wasn't paying attention. She was staring at Emma. “We _will_ be back,” her mother vowed, as if reading her thoughts.

“Of course you will,” Henry agreed. “And if something went wrong, we'd find you. Wouldn't we, Mom?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, kid. We would.”

“Too right,” Killian chimed in, taking Emma's hand.

Mary Margaret smiled at them all. Emma thought for a second she was going to hug them again, but her mother managed to refrain. “Let me just double check that we have everything,” the princess said, covering. “Then we should probably get going.”

“Don't you mean quadruple check?” David called as Mary Margaret hurried off. But he was smiling fondly at her retreating back. He turned back to Emma. “Listen, your mother's right. We _will_ be back. From what Jefferson said, most of the realms are pretty devastated, lifeless. We drop off the stolen item and go. Easy.”

“Except Camelot,” Killian said. “But if you mention us, you shouldn't have too much trouble.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “Ask for Gawain; he was decent.”

“And tell him we said hello,” Killian said.

David nodded. “Captain Hook friends with a Knight of the Round Table. Who'd have thought it?”

“Not me, mate. But Gawain's a good bloke. He'll look after you.”

David was about to say something else when there was a knock on the door. Her father went to answer it and returned less than a minute later with August in tow.

“Hey everyone,” August greeted them.

“August!” Henry cried, slipping from Emma's grasp and hugging his friend.

“Not that I'm not happy to see you, August, but what are you doing here?” Emma asked.

“A bird told me you all defeated Rumplestiltskin,” August said.

“Really?” Henry asked.

August smiled. “Okay, it wasn't really a bird. But I did see him stumbling back into his shop late yesterday afternoon.”

“He got back to town?” Emma asked. “How?”

“Drove, I think. His car was parked along the street. He looked...well, shell shocked, to be honest. What happened?”

As briefly as they could, they filled August in on the events of the previous few days. The former puppet let out a low whistle when they were finished. “That explains why he accosted me as soon as got back into town,” he said. “Took the slippers from me without so much as thank you.”

“He did threaten you, mate,” Killian observed. “What did you expect, a bloody parade?”

“Good point,” August chuckled. “Anyway, I went to check on my dad right after. I was out getting him some take out from Granny's when I saw Rumplestiltskin.”

“Someone should check on him,” Mary Margaret said, having rejoined them.

“Belle's with him,” August said. “And I can't imagine he'd be overeager to see any of you right now.”

“All the same,” Mary Margaret began.

“No,” Emma cut in. “August's right. Now that we know Gold made it back to town, we'll let him cool off before any of us goes traipsing over there. If Belle's the woman I think she is, he won't cause any trouble for a while.” She turned back to August. “I know this might be asking a lot, but could you take the slippers back where you found them? David and Mary Margaret are taking everything else back and I don't want to leave _any_ magical objects here in town.”

“Why can't we do it?” Henry piped up. “I thought we were taking a vacation. We can just go to where the slippers belong.”

“Henry, August found the slippers in Kansas. Killian's ship can't travel to Kansas. I thought you wanted to go on the ship?”

Henry frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. Emma felt bad for him; she knew where her son's sudden desire to go to Kansas was coming from. Henry wanted to _do_ something, to help, even if it was something small like returning the ruby slippers to their rightful home.

“What's the nearest port, love?” Killian asked.

“New Orleans, I think. Why?”

“I was thinking...we could sail there, then take a detour to this Kansas place. It'd be a shame to send August right back there after he's returned.”

Henry's eyes lit up. “Please, Mom?” he begged. _“Please?”_

Emma looked from her son to her fiancé. They were conspiring against her already. But Emma was no match for Henry's imploring eyes. “Okay. We were _only_ dropping off the slippers, got it? I want to spend at least _some_ of this vacation on a beach.”

“Yes!” Henry cried. Emma felt Killian squeeze her hand and she smiled at him. A little mini adventure for their family. What could go wrong with that?

An hour later, Emma, Killian, Henry, Mary Margaret and David were down by the docks. After some discussion, they had decided that the water was the best place to actually open the portal. Less chance of being observed; no one wanted to alarm the town unnecessarily.

“I guess this is it then,” Mary Margaret said with false brightness. “We just throw it in the water?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded. “Throw in the bean and concentrate on where you want to go. Pretty straightforward.”

David handed Killian a bag. “Here's the rest of the beans,” he said seriously. “Keep them safe.” Killian nodded and accepted the bag, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Then he shook David's hand. David moved on to Henry, hugging his grandson tightly. Over his shoulder, Emma saw her mother hugging Killian and whispering something in his ear. Killian looked at her in surprise, but smiled. Emma didn't get the chance to ask, because her father was standing in front of her.

“We'll be back soon, Emma,” David said, pulling her into a fierce hug. “Real soon. I promise.” He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “I love you, Emma. Remember that, okay?”

Emma nodded. “Love you too, Dad. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

David smiled. “Always.”

Her father stepped away to have a final word with Killian and suddenly, Mary Margaret was there. Her mother cupped her cheeks in her small hands, much as she had that first time Emma had seen her after the curse broke. “My brave, beautiful Emma,” Mary Margaret said, her voice cracking slightly. “I love you so much. _I will be back for you_. I promise.”

Emma's bottom lip trembled and threw herself into her mother's arms. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “Be careful. Please.”

Mary Margaret tightened her hold, stroking Emma's hair. “I'll see you in a few days, Emma. You'll see.”

All Emma could do was nod. She didn't trust herself to speak. As soon as her mother released her, Killian and Henry were both there, Killian on her left and Henry on her right. She held them tightly as her parents waved one final farewell and jumped into the swirling portal.

The next few days were quiet. Emma and Killian locked the bag of beans up in the most secure location they could think of; they were the only people who knew where that was. Henry went back to school, but he was home promptly to keep the unspoken vigil with his parents at the apartment. At dusk, Emma would go patrol in her squad car, saving the drive by the pawnshop for last. The light was always on, but the closed sign remained firmly in place. Emma had asked Ruby if she'd heard from Belle, but no luck. Honestly, Emma couldn't seen _what_ Gold could do to them now; his greatest weapon was gone. But she also knew it was foolish to let her guard down. She and Killian had taken Rumplestiltskin's identity away from him in addition to his power. Who knew how the pawnbroker would retaliate.

Mary Margaret and David had been gone for four days when Belle strode into the sheriff's station. Killian was at Granny's getting their lunch, so Emma was alone. “Belle,” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The brunette looked much as she had the last time she'd arrived unannounced, a little apprehensive and worried about how she'd be received. “Hello, Emma. Is this...a bad time?”

“No! Not at all,” Emma assured her, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Killian's getting lunch, but otherwise, it's been a pretty boring day all things considered.”

“Are your parents back yet?”

Emma's brows shot up, wondering how Belle knew about that. Then she remembered Belle was friends with Ruby. Belle must have spoken to her before coming. “No,” she said cautiously. “But we're expecting them any day.”

Belle smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry, I haven't said anything to Rumple. Your secret's safe.”

Emma let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. “Oh. Okay.” She paused, wondering what on earth Belle was even here for then. “How is he?”

Belle looked away, frowning. “Physically, he's fine. I showed up at the pawnshop looking for him when he drove back from...well, wherever he'd been.”

“The forest, by the town line,” Emma supplied. “He tried to enact the curse.”

Belle looked at her in horror. “Oh my god,” she said softly. “Is...everyone alright? I mean, obviously, they are because I don't feel cursed, but...oh my god.”

“We stopped him,” Emma said. “There was a second where I thought...” She shook her head, not wanting to relive that moment when it appeared that Rumplestiltskin's final act as the Dark One would rob Killian from her. “But we're all fine. And Rumplestiltskin's mortal. It's over.”

“M-m-mortal?” Belle asked nervously. “What does that mean?”

“We brought something back from Neverland. Something that would destroy his powers for good.”

“And you _used it_?” Belle cried. “There wasn't any other way?”

“Belle, he was going to take Killian's heart and use it to enact the curse. A curse that could have destroyed _everything_. What did you expect me to do?”

Belle sighed heavily, looking defeated. “No, you're right. I thought...I _hoped;_ obviously I was wrong. That explains a lot though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like I said, physically, Rumple's fine. But he's been...withdrawn. Depressed. And he won't talk to me. I couldn't figure out what was different, but now...now it makes sense.”

“Do you think he's going to be...well, I guess okay isn't the right word,” Emma said, frowning.

“I don't know,” Belle said sadly. “I've never seen him like this. He did all this to get to his son and now...”

“Neal wants nothing to do with him and he can't leave to try and make amends,” Emma finished. It tallied with an idea she'd been toying with since her parents left. She had to talk to Killian first; he wasn't going to like it.

“Yeah,” Belle said. She got up to go. “Thanks, Emma. I feel so bad for not coming to you sooner; maybe there was a way to work this out...”

Emma shook her head. “No, Belle, there wasn't. I know you want to believe the best in him, but you didn't see him. He was...there's just too much bad blood. Until he can accept that his own choices sent the people he loves away and not Killian, he's not going to be able to change. _Genuinely_ change.”

“He told me once that his powers were a crutch; that he didn't know how to function without them. And it made him a coward. I didn't truly understand what he meant then, but I...I think I do now.”

“I think you might be the only one who has a chance at helping him now, Belle. We'll stay away, give him time to...work through it, I suppose. But I will protect me and mine if he comes after us again.”

Belle nodded. “I understand.” Even powerless Rumpelstiltskin was dangerous. She gave Emma another sad smile before turning to go.

Emma was lost in thought when Killian returned. “What that the Crocodile's love I saw walking out of here?” Killian asked, setting the bag of take out on the desk.

“Yeah, Belle wanted to talk about Gold.”

“How is the Crocodile?” Killian pulled out one of the Styrofoam boxes and set it in front of him as he sat in the chair that Belle had recently occupied.

“Belle says he's withdrawn and depressed.”

“Serves him right,” Killian said, munching on some of Granny's fries.

Emma took out her own lunch, shooting Killian a look. “He's still dangerous, Killian. He lost his powers, not his brains.”

“Ah, but now we can shove him into a cell if he tries anything, love.”

“What if we...I don't know, tried to make things better somehow?” Emma didn't look at him, taking a bite of her grilled cheese instead.

“Darling, he tried to kill me and destroy the world. I think our obligation to the Crocodile's happiness is at an end.”

They were quiet for long moments, each lost in thought, eating their lunch. Finally, Emma sighed. “I know that, Killian. Gold's done _awful_ things and I certainly won't be inviting him to tea anytime soon. But all he wants to try and make amends with his son. I get that.”

Killian reached across the desk for her hand. “Emma, your compassion is one of the things I love most about you. But Baelfire was _here_. He wants nothing to do with the Crocodile. And I can't really say that I blame him.”

“But that was before. Gold still had his powers. It's different now. I think...well, I've been thinking.” She looked at Killian and bit her lip. “I want to call Neal. Tell him what's happened. Then he has the relevant facts and can make his own mind. That's all.”

“You want to _call_ Baelfire?” Killian asked, fear flooding his blue eyes.

“ _Only_ to tell him about Gold. I do _not_ want him back. I'm marrying you, remember?” she said reassuringly, squeezing his hand.

“Too right, lass,” Killian said, trying to sound flippant, but Emma caught the relief in his voice. “Can I be there when you contact him?”

“Yes, of course,” Emma replied, happy that he was taking it better than she thought.

“What about Henry?”

Emma pressed her lips together, thinking. “There's a good chance that it won't change anything; Neal still might not want to see his father. But if he does...we ask Henry. Henry's the only one that can make that call. But there's one thing I do know. _You're_ his dad. And if Neal can't handle that, then I don't want him anywhere near Henry. You and Henry are family now, no matter what.”

Killian just stared at her, his eyes filled with wonder and awe. “I love you, Emma. So much. And Henry's the best son a man could ask for. Truly.”

“I love you too, Killian,” she replied, giving him her best reassuring smile. “Come on, let's finish lunch. Then we'll make that call, okay?”

An hour later, Emma picked up her phone and dialed the number she'd tracked down on the station's ancient desktop computer. Killian was standing next to her holding her free hand tightly. She put the phone on speaker and laid it on the desk. After three rings, Neal's voice answered. “Hello?” he said distractedly.

“Neal? It's Emma. Before you hang up, there's something I need to tell you. It's about your father.”

 

That night, Emma and Killian were sitting on the couch, much as they had for the previous three nights. Henry had long since gone to bed. “What did my mother say to you, Killian? Before they left, I mean.”

Killian looked down at her, curiously. “You noticed that?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. I'm the sheriff for a reason you know.”

“Funny, I thought that was because you're _gorgeous.”_

“Ha, ha. Did she tell you not to tell me?”

Killian shook his head, pressing a kiss to her temple. “No, love, nothing like that.” He sighed. “She just...she said that she was honored to have me as her son.”

When Emma looked at him, she could see he was a bit pink and his ears were red. That was just like her mother. Saying just the right thing to make someone feel better. Emma hugged him close. “Nice to know I won't be the only one on the receiving end of Snow White's familial declarations,” she said lightly, knowing Killian was embarrassed enough as it was.

“I don't deserve you. Any of you,” Killian said, holding her tight. “But I'll be damned if I give you up.”

“Good, because none of us want to give you up either.”

There was a knock at the door making them both jump. “Who the bloody hell is that at this hour?” Killian asked, as Emma got up.

“No idea,” Emma said. Killian was right behind her as she reached out to pull the door open. “This better be good,” she said as the door opened. The rest of that sentence caught in her throat; Mary Margaret and David were standing in the doorway, looking a bit worse for wear but otherwise _fine._

“Mom? Dad?” Emma said, her lip trembling.

Mary Margaret smiled. “Yes, Emma, it's us.”

Emma stepped forward and hugged her, relief flooding her body. She'd tried not to worry _too_ much, but having her mother's arms around her...it crashed over her all at once. David joined in the hug; the three of them standing there for long moments, reveling in the feeling that they were together once more. Emma pulled back first, wanting usher her parents inside.

“Oi! What about me?” said a familiar voice.

Emma looked past her mother and saw Gawain standing there. In her hallway. “How did...?”

David spoke up. “Gawain wanted to say his hellos in person,” he said simply.

“What?” Killian exclaimed. “That good for nothing knight is _here?_ ”

“Watch it, pirate,” the knight retorted, grinning at his friend. “We still have a duel to finish, remember?”

“I'll still beat you,” Killian said, stepping forward to hug his friend.

“I'll take on the winner,” David said, smiling.

“You certainly will _not,”_ Mary Margaret countered. Emma laughed.

“What's going on?” a sleepy voice said from the stairs. “Grams? Gramps? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Henry,” David said. “It's us. And we brought a friend of your dad's.”

Henry's sleepy eyes went wide. Gawain smiled broadly at him, bowing exaggeratedly. “Sir Gawain, young master,” he said in his most courtly voice. “Knight of the Round Table.”

“This is so cool!” Henry exclaimed. He ran the rest of the way down the stairs, hugging each of his grandparents in turn as Emma ushered everyone inside. In minutes, they were all gathered in the living room, Emma and Killian sitting on the floor to give the new arrivals the comfort of the couch.

“So what happened?” Emma asked. “Not as easy as Jefferson said?”

David sighed. “We didn't have _too_ many problems,” he said.

“Your father got us lost a couple of times,” Mary Margaret cut in.

David looked at her indignantly. “I did not!”

“You keep telling yourself that, Charming,” her mother said fondly. And for the first time, Emma saw the look they shared. It must be the same look she and Killian often shared, the one that said “I love you, madly, stupidly, and forever.” She leaned her head on Killian's shoulder as her parents told the rest of the story, but Emma was only half listening. She had everyone she loved right here, her parents, her son and her True Love. Safe and sound. She was content.


	18. Epilogue

“Killian, he _can't_ ,” Emma cried. “He's only eleven, for Christ's sake!”

“Lass, I'll be right behind him. It will be _fine_ , I promise.” Killian leaned in and stole a kiss from her lips.

“Damn pirate,” Emma muttered, following Killian up to the helm. Their little family vacation was over and for some reason, Killian thought this was a good time to teach Henry how to dock the _Jolly Roger_ into her berth at the pier. Nevermind that their son was _eleven_ and could barely see over the wheel. No, to Captain Killian Jones, this was the best idea ever.

“You worry too much, Mom,” Henry said, smiling brightly at her. Henry – as they all were – was tanner and thinner than when they left. He'd gotten a bit taller too. Or maybe that was Emma's imagination. She'd missed so much of his growing up, she couldn't be sure.

“See, love?” Killian said, standing directly behind Henry, ready to step in if necessary. “Right as rain.”

Emma tried to find something wrong with the picture in front of her and came up empty. At length, she relented. “Fine, I'll finish packing,” she said. “But if we crash, I'm totally blaming you two.” Her two boys gave her identical mischievous grins and Emma rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips nonetheless.

Leaving the boys to it, Emma headed back to the captain's quarters. She was pretty sure everything was packed, but it never hurt to double check. She had a feeling they wouldn't be back on the _Roger_ for a while once they returned. Three weeks solid of life at sea was about all she could stand. Other than their – thankfully – uneventful trip to Kansas, they'd remained close to the coast, stopping to spend some time on the beach, do a bit of sight seeing. It was Killian's first long trip to anywhere in her world and she wanted him to enjoy it.

Emma spent the next few minutes checking their bags, including the huge bag of souvenirs and trinkets they were bringing back. Henry had wanted to buy something almost everywhere they went – New Orleans, Mobile, Miami, Savannah, even Kansas – for everyone they knew back in Storybrooke. Unless they found some way to break the border spell without ending the world or wiping everyone's memories, it was the most of the outside world their friends and family would ever know. Emma held up the snow globe she'd gotten for Mary Margaret in Miami. It was cheesy with “snow” falling over some palm trees and a beach chair. Having been on this vacation, it made her sad that her parents couldn't join them. Mary Margaret and David would never get to see a palm tree in real life; all they had was some cheap plastic.

Frowning, Emma put the rest of the trinkets away. This wasn't the time for wallowing. She'd just had an amazing trip with her fiance and her son; now they were on their way _home._

 

“Mom, have you seen my phone?” Henry asked. They had just docked – not _crashed_ – at the pier.

“Nope,” Emma replied, still unsure about Henry even _having_ a phone. But Regina had insisted. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said vaguely. “Maybe I left it my cabin. I'll go look.”

Emma raised slightly bemused brow at her son as he walked away. What was _that_ about? “Something the matter, love?” Killian said, replacing Henry at the threshold.

“Has Henry been acting _odd_ the last day or so to you?”

“I can't say that he has,” Killian said, looking at her curiously. “What do you think the lad's up to, Emma?”

“I don't know, but I'm sure it's something.” Her lie detector was definitely getting a weird vibe.

“How about you save the interrogation for _after_ we get home? Fewer places for him to hide.”

Emma laughed. “Okay, pirate. We'll do this your way.” Together, they collected their bags and headed out to the main deck. “Henry!” Emma called. “Hurry up!”

Her son came pounding up the crew stairs, lugging his own bulging bag. “Here!” he said, thrusting his now found phone into his pocket. “Okay, I'm ready.”

In no time, the three of them were piling bags and trinkets into Emma's Bug. “Really, love,” Killian complained. “This car is nowhere near big enough for the three of us _and_ our things. Why didn't we call David again?”

“Because he's still on duty,” Emma admonished. “And it was more than nice of him to give me all this time off, so button it, buddy.”

But Killian was right; the Bug was too small. Emma couldn't even see out the back window as she pulled out of the parking lot by the docks to head back to their apartment. Fortunately, she knew the road by heart, so she was pretty confident they wouldn't get into some kind of accident.

“What are all these cars doing here?” Emma asked, as she pulled into her normal space. The road in front of her building was loaded with cars. Was there an open house for the apartment across the hall that she didn't now about? Henry, however, was sitting in the back of the car, grinning. “What do you know, kid?” Emma asked, suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Henry said in that time honored way that meant “everything.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She got out of the car, Killian following suit as he pulled the seat back to allow Henry to exit the Bug. She stalked over to the door and put her key in the lock. Killian was at her side in seconds, grabbing her free hand. Emma unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“SURPRISE!”

Unlike the _last_ time, Emma really did jump, no acting required. Beside her, Killian peered over her shoulder with wide eyes. “I'll be damned,” he said in a low awed voice.

Behind them, Henry was pushing them into the apartment. “See?” he was saying. “I told you it would work.”

Emma shook her head, looking around at all the people crammed into her relatively tiny apartment. “What is going on?”

“It's a surprise engagement party, silly,” Ruby said from across the room. “You didn't really think we were gonna let this pass, did you?”

Henry was hugging his grandparents and beaming at them. “They didn't suspect a thing,” he said proudly.

“So _this_ is what all those phone calls were about?” Emma asked. Henry had been calling home a lot over the last couple of days of their trip; Emma hadn't thought anything of it until Henry had asked about his supposedly missing phone.

“It was all Henry's idea,” Mary Margaret said. “And we...”

“Couldn't resist a party,” Emma finished for her. But she found herself grinning. All of their friends were there: Ruby and Granny, her parents, Gawain looking slightly awkward in modern clothes, the dwarves, Mother Superior, even Regina. There was a sign the hung in the kitchen, 'CONGRATULATIONS KILLIAN AND EMMA,' that was way too big, but she appreciated the thought.

Killian, much to Emma's amusement, bowed formally at David and Mary Margaret. “A lovely thought, your Majesties. Thank you.”

David laughed and came over to clap Killian on the back. “Come on, pirate. There's a bottle of rum with your name on it.”

From that moment on, Emma hardly got a free minute. She was pulled hither and thither, accepting people's congratulations and well wishes. Thankfully, Mary Margaret had decided against gifts, joking instead that she'd saved that for the wedding. Emma was already cringing at the thought. But she'd promised Killian. A wedding on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_. And she'd give it to him.

Killian reappeared at her side just as Gawain made his way over to her. “So you're finally making a honest man of him, Emma?” the knight joked.

“Watch it, mate,” Killian said, in mock indignation. “We still have unfinished business, you and I.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “How's Storybrooke treating you, Gawain? Sorry we didn't get to see you much before we left.”

“Your parents have been most welcoming,” the knight assured her. “It's definitely an...adjustment, but fascinating all the same.”

“You should have see Killian's adjustment,” Emma said. “But he caught on pretty fast.”

“And how would you know?” Killian shot back. “You spent my first weeks in this realm studiously _ignoring_ me!”

Emma blushed. She'd almost forgotten about that. Killian had become such an essential part of her life that sometimes she forgot about their rocky start. “But I was the one who taught you to use things like the phone and coffee maker,” she said, recovering. “Don't I get points for that?”

Killian grinned and kissed her cheek. “Aye, love.”

“And you have already discovered the way to a successful marriage, my friend,” Gawain said, chuckling. “The lady is always right.”

Killian barked a laugh. “No, Emma's just especially brilliant,” he said. “Always has been.”

Emma could feel the flush climb her neck. She decided to change the subject. “So, I've been thinking,” she said hurriedly, “about the wedding.” It was only a tiny lie. Seeing Gawain there, she latched on to something Guinevere had told her weeks ago. “You're a knight of the Round Table, right?” Gawain nodded. “And you can perform weddings?”

“What are you getting at, love?” Killian asked.

“Well, you're the _groom_ , Killian. I know that a captain can perform weddings, but you can't marry yourself, right? So I thought Gawain could do it. Lancelot married my parents; Guinevere told me.”

“That sounds like Lancelot,” Gawain said, smiling sadly. “Such a romantic. If that is something you truly wish Emma, I would be honored to perform the ceremony.”

“Killian?” Emma asked, looking at him hopefully.

“As you wish, my love,” he said, grinning at her.

“One thing down,” Emma joked. “Mary Margaret will be thrilled.” She was about to say something else, when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Emma?” said a voice she didn't recognize. “Could I have a word?”

Emma looked in the direction of the voice. It was a gorgeous brunette that she had never seen before. But the woman seemed to know her, Emma could see that in her eyes. “Um, okay,” she said warily.

“What, love?” Killian asked, concerned.

Emma looked from the brunette to Killian. “You don't see her?”

“See who? Emma, are you feeling alright?”

“Emma,” the brunette said again. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just need a minute of your time. I will bring you back to your handsome pirate in one piece.” Emma stared at her, eyes wide. There was an aura of power about the woman, something unlike anything she'd felt before. Given her experience with magic, she didn't think it wise to ignore the summons. And if things got hairy, Emma could just blast her.

Emma turned back to Killian. “I'm fine,” she said. “Back in a minute, okay?” She hoped that he could get her unspoken message in her eyes. _I'll tell you later._

Emma followed the brunette into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Whatever this was, Emma got the feeling they didn't want to be overheard. “Okay, why don't you tell me what this is about, because I'm pretty sure I've never seen you in my life.”

The brunette smiled. It was a devastatingly beautiful smile designed to make men weak in the knees and trip all over themselves. Why on earth did this woman think it would work on Emma? “Ah, one of the many reasons I like you, Emma Swan. Not one to beat around the bush, as they say.”

Emma raised one unamused brow. “Who are you? And be quick about it; I have a party to get back to.”

“I've been called by many names over many centuries and in many realms,” the brunette said serenely. “But for the purposes of this discussion, you may call me Aphrodite.”

Emma snorted. “ _Aphrodite?_ The goddess of love? You have _got_ to be kidding.”

Aphrodite – if that really was her name – laughed merrily. “I do not expect you to believe me, Emma. Despite all you've been through, there is still a part of you that thinks all of this is quite ridiculous. I mean, honestly. The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming engaged to Captain Hook?” She paused, considering. “No, it is better that you do not believe. At least not yet. But there will come a time when your belief will be essential. I do think, however, that your pirate will help with that. He's quite handsome, if I do say so myself.”

Emma bristled. She so did not need this – whatever she was – eying up her fiance. “I believe just fine,” she said heatedly. “Kinda hard not to when you've seen what I've seen.”

“That is not the kind of belief I'm talking about, Emma,” Aphrodite said sadly. “But you will understand in time. I merely come to offer my assistance.”

“Assistance for what? Throw rose petals at my wedding?”

Aphrodite pulled out a large silver swan shaped pendant on a matching silver chain. “Take this,” she said, holding it out. “But only use it in your darkest hour. And I will come.”

“I already have a swan necklace, thanks,” Emma said, fingering the one her parents had gotten her for her birthday.

“The swan is one of my sacred birds,” Aphrodite said patiently. “Do you think it is a coincidence that the child born of True Love carries such a name?”

Emma blinked. This woman, she couldn't be _serious_ , could she? Emma had never really asked where her last name had come from; it was simply _hers_ , one of the few things she could claim as hers while in the system. Now some lunatic lady claiming to be the goddess of love was telling her it was purposeful? How crazy could you get?

“There is a darkness coming,” Aphrodite said. “You know this. The Queen of the Fairies warned you when you took the dust of the Neverland star. And it will come for you, Emma Swan. You are the child of True Love and more powerful than you know. Take it. I will guide you where I can. And when you feel that all hope is lost, you may call on me. Those who underestimate the power of love usually do so to their cost. You will make me proud, Emma.”

Emma blinked and Aphrodite was gone. The swan pendant laid neatly on her dresser. Emma grabbed it and shoved it into a drawer. That woman – whoever she was – was clearly off her rocker. Looking back at it, Emma wasn't even sure she was _real_. She'd seen a lot of crazy things since moving to Storybrooke, but that might have just taken the cake.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Killian stepped through it. “Emma, love? Everything all right? People were starting to wonder where you'd gotten to.”

Emma turned to face him. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Killian raised a skeptical brow. “Love, you're white as a sheet. What happened?”

Slowly, she explained what she'd seen and heard since leaving him at the party, knowing that he wouldn't judge her or think she was crazy. “I believe you, Emma,” he said when she finished.

“You do?”

“Aye. There were tales long ago about the gods. Coming down to talk to us mere mortals, get us to do their bidding and the like.”

“Well, here those are considered myths, as in _not real_. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little skeptical that the goddess of love just visited me in our bedroom.”

“Ah, but wasn't I just considered a story, love? And your parents?”

Emma smiled grimly. “Stop being logical, Killian. You're killing my buzz.”

Killian took her hand. “Tell you what. We'll keep this to ourselves for now. No sense in worrying everyone until there's something to _be_ worried about, yeah? We have an entire room full of guests here to celebrate with us. I say we enjoy it.” 

Emma's smile widened. “Okay. Let's forget the crazy goddess and focus on right now. I think I spied a cake in there, Captain. We should probably cut it before our son takes matters into his own hands.”

Killian grinned. “Aye, let's.” He stood and held out his arm. “Shall we, my love?”

Emma stood and linked her arm with his. “Lead on, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. I've got a third part planned in the old noggin, so never fear. Emma and Killian's adventures aren't over!


End file.
